Osis
by DanuMarie
Summary: Harry Potter, nineteen and an Auror, has a run in with his old nemesis, Draco Malfoy, while investigating odd muggle homicides. Rated M for later content. Not epilogue compliant! Full Summary Inside. Be careful of spoilers in reviews!
1. Information Page

**Hello! Thank you for stopping by to read my fanfic!**

Okay, this page here is for disclaimers, updates, and any other information I feel that you should know. Hence, if you don't care about any of that, simply move onto the first (or whichever you're on) chapter (though I think you should read this page, regardless).

This is my first ever fanfic. I've never attempted it before, so I hope this isn't too horrendous. Please review after you read. I would love to know how this is, and how I'm doing so far. Plus, it's always nice to hear input, and what people would like to see happen. –winks- As if I don't know all ready, right? Also, when you review, remember to be honest. _A person cannot achieve perfection if they're only told lies._

With that said:

**Rating: M (for language, adult themes, adult situations, and other various things that those who are not emotionally mature should prohibit themselves from reading)**

**Pairing: Harry/Draco**

**Summary:** Harry Potter, nineteen and an Auror, has a run in with his old nemesis, Draco Malfoy while investigating odd muggle homicides. Once the meeting is over, however, things get thrown topsy-turvy as Harry not only finds his case taking a turn he hadn't expected, but he also finds himself at odds with his two best friends, warring with emotions he doesn't want, and...protecting Draco - who might just be behind it all.

_**Disclaimer**_: I am very poor. That is proof enough that I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with Harry Potter (other than this plot line). This story isn't even here to make me rich. It's here because I have an insatiable appetite for boy on boy love, and the more angst surrounding that love, the better. Also, because I know that I am not the only one with that passion. Hence, Harry and Draco. Enjoy.

_**A/N**_: I realize that chapter one isn't exactly the best thing in the world - I have problems with getting a story started. However, the story gets better as you go along! I promise!!

**Updates**

February 21st, 2008: Chapter 1: _Lion and Snake Reunion_ is posted.

February 22nd, 2008: Chapter 2: _A Curious Encounter, Reflections, and a Shock_ is posted.

February 23rd, 2008: Chapter 3: _Midnight Escapades_ is posted.

February 24th, 2008: Chapter's 1,2, and 3 are revised for spelling errors, sentence structure, and general storytelling flow - - Information page is added - - Private work for Chapter 4 begins and should be posted soon.

February 26th, 2008: Chapter 4: _Obliviate _is posted. - - Thanks to the two people who have reviewed my story so far. Also, thanks to those who have put it on their story-alert. I must be doing something right because there have been quite a few of those. -crosses her fingers- Now I just need more reviewers. So be nice to me, and give me what I want, eh? - - Work on Chapter 5 begins. - - Chapter 4 is edited for spelling errors.

February 28th, 2008: Chapter 5: _A Pleasant Dream and a New Task_ is posted.- - Oh, I can't tell you all how happy I am to see that 4 new reviews have been added! Much love to all of you, lots of hugs, and here's some cookies even! -throws reviewers cookies- Also -throws cookies to those who put her story on story-alert- You people deserve some love too. - - Work on Chapter 6 begins.

February 29th, 2008: Work on Chapter 6 continues. - - Chapter 5 is edited for general story-telling flow.

March 2nd, 2008: Chapter 6: _Vital Information_ is posted. - - Sorry about the delay, I got called into work twice, and was too tired at the end of the night to work on the story, though, I have to admit, I did work on some of it last night, but I didn't upload, because I didn't think half a chapter would be acceptable to you guys! Anyway - enjoy the new installment. Also, let me know what you're thinking, of course!! (Oh!! And thank you, thank you, thank you!! for all the new reviews and story-alerts! You people are freakin' awesome.)

March 3rd, 2008: Work on Chapter 7 begins. I was thinking, also, of rewriting the first chapter, but I'm not sure yet. I'm afraid it might distract me from the current chapter I should be working on. However, I'm really unsatisfied with Chapter One: _Lion and Snake Reunion_. What do you people think? Any suggestions? Again, thanks for the new reviews and story-alerts!

March 4th, 2008: Chapter 7: _In the Elevator_ is posted. I don't know where the idea came from. I started it late Monday night (the 3rd), having no idea what I was going to do with it, and just finished it now at 2 in the morning (the 4th). Because it spilled out of me so quickly, I hope it is enjoyable! Let me know!! - - Wow. I came home from work to find 9 e-mails in my inbox from story-alerts and reviews. So, I just wanted to say thank you so much (and a special thank you to madeleins-alive for the continued support. May I sate his/her Drakie appetite). - - Chapter 7 edited for spelling errors.

March 5th, 2008: Work on chapter 8 begins.

March 6th, 2008: It's been two hours since the above update, but as it is after midnight, that makes it the 6th. Chapter 8: _They're Dead?_has been posted. I'm not too sure I like the chapter title, but it will have to do. - - I'm going to go ahead and tell you now that Chapter 9 is probably going to be pretty quick in coming because it's all ready dancing in my head, and since I have a mild form of insomnia, I think I might just start on it now. But no promises on how quick, okay? - - As always, thanks for all of the new reviews and story-alerts. I hope you enjoy the new installment. - - 1 hour later, Chapter 9: _Save the Serpent and the Grader _is posted. - - Read, review, and let me know what you think! Thanks in advance!!

March 7th, 2008: Work on Chapter 10 begins. - - Also: -takes the cookie from ink.returns- Thank you. - - To the rest of you, thank you kindly for your wonderful reviews. And, of course, thank you for the story-alerts and story-favorites. It really means a lot to me, and most certainly is the gas behind the continuation of this story (which, might I add, almost died once because of the _serious_ lack of reviews - I thought everyone was thinking it was dead awful). - - Another note: and this shall be placed at the end of Chapter 10 as well just in case no one's actually reading these updates ( -gives a disapproving stare- ); I'll be changing the title of this story sometime soon. The idea I originally started with evolved into something completely different, and, therefore, the title no longer coincides with the story. Now, I may just wait until I've finished the story completely and then have a vote on a new title, but I don't know yet. You people tell me what you think, eh? -winks- - - Chapter 10: _Letting It Go_ is posted.- - Work on Chapter 11 begins. - - Chapter 11: _A Wizard's Duel _is posted. - - Work on Chapter 12 beings.

March 8th, 2008: Chapter 12: _Loveless Potion_ is posted. As you can see, the story has a new name: "Osis". It makes perfect sense to me, and perhaps even to you, the reader. However, do me a favor and don't leave any reviews that are potential spoilers for others. Also, if you don't know what it means - don't go looking it up or you'll just ruin the story for yourself. Well, enjoy the new installment - I rather like it, if I do say so myself. - - Also, I don't know if you can tell, but this story went under some heavy document changes and such. It's a quarter till four in the morning, and I'm dead tired, but I can honestly say that I feel so very accomplished. - - A head's up: This story is almost finished.

March 8th, 2008: I've went to sleep and got back up, that's why the date is the same, but its under a different heading. Anyway! Work on Chapter 13 beings.

March 9th, 2008: Work on Chapter 13 was halted when I couldn't get a few things out of my head. Hence, _"Letters to Reviewers Before "The End"_" has been posted. - - Work on Chapter 13 resumes.

March 9th, 2008: Again, I've gone to bed and got back up. Chapter 13: _Fessing Up_ is posted.

March 10th, 2008: Work on Chapter 14 beings. - - It's 6 o'clock in the morning. I've been up all night writing the new chapter as I struggled over "something" in particular. But, hey, first time for everything! Hope it goes over well. Chapter 14: _A Tender Moment_ is posted.

March 10th, 2008: Work on Chapter 15 begins. I would just like to apologize for the _**massive amount**_ of spoilers in the reviews, but as they're not anonymous I can't do anything about it...unfortunately.

March 11th, 2008: Chapter 15: _A Trigger_ is posted. I'll be honest - it's tense. Enjoy!

March 11th, 2008: Work on Chapter 16 beings. - - Chapter 16: _Heaven's Embrace_ is posted. - - Chapter 17 is underway currently. - - Chapter 17: _Life Force_ is posted. - - Thank you.


	2. Lion and Snake Reunion

* * *

_Chapter One: Lion and Snake Reunion_

Harry Potter was a man just like every other man except for one or two differences. One of which was that Harry Potter was also the "Boy Who Lived", the boy who had, mysteriously, defeated the greatest dark wizard that ever existed – Voldemort – when he had been only one year old, and then, later, at seventeen, came back to do it again.

The other thing that made Harry Potter different from most other men was that he was homosexual. Of course, he kept this little tidbit of information completely concealed, even to himself. He was so blind to his own sexuality that by the time he turned nineteen years old; he was still convinced that he was perfectly straight. However, there are certain things that cannot stay buried forever, and the latter just happens to be one of them.

-------------

On the day this story starts, Harry was called to investigate a muggle homicide that looked to have been committed by magic. Within the last six months, there had been several types of these murders, and Harry, being one of the lead Aurors, was leading the case. The main problem with the case was trying to figure out how the muggles had died. All of the muggles were found stone-cold dead, their eyes wide open, and a hint of a smile on their lips. After autopsies by both muggle and magical ways, there could be found no reason as to why these young, perfectly healthy people had dropped dead.

When Harry arrived at the proper address, he was met by a muggle police officer that was aware of the magical world. After a few brief words, Harry was led to a room where he took his time taking in the body of the twenty-something female on the floor, and then investigating the rest of the room around her before leaving the room to examine the rest of the house. After all was said and done, and Harry left the house to go back to his office, he had no more conclusive evidence than he had had when he'd first arrived.

He ran his hand back through his messy black hair, and looked up the blue sky with his green eyes. He knew he had to be missing something. He just knew he _had_ to be overlooking _something_. But what? _What_? Bringing his gaze back down to peer in front of him, they were quick to widen in shock as he saw a very familiar figure coming toward him. The tall man was dressed in muggle clothes, and he had his hands shoved in his pockets, and his shoulders were kind of hunched in a defeated manner, but all of those things combined did not stop Harry from recognizing the man.

"_Malfoy_," Harry hissed.

The man, having not noticed Harry yet, kept strolling forward. When he finally did look up, the sun glinted off his platinum blond hair before catching his silver-gray eyes, and they soon followed Harry's eyes action in widening. He stopped in his tracks and then he quickly pulled his shoulders back and took on a more dignified stance. His eyes narrowed and a cocky grin appeared on his lips.

"_Potter_," Draco Malfoy said, a sly, almost _pleased_, note in his voice.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry's voice was tense and held eight years worth of hatred for the other man. And after all of the events in their shared past, Harry's dislike for Draco Malfoy was quite understandable.

Malfoy, still wearing that egotistical grin, cocked his head to the side, and shrugged, "Because I can be, Potter? What are _you_ doing here?"

Harry's hand lifted and reached behind him to pull his wand out of his back jeans pocket. He was also dressed in muggle wear, though he looked a bit more conservative compared to Malfoy. While Harry wore regular sneakers, a pair of ordinary blue jeans, and a white long-sleeved shirt that had _M.M.A.D. Harry Potter _written in small lettering on the left hand side over his pectoral area, Malfoy was dressed in a black suit, the kind of suit muggles usually wore to blue-collar events, a pair of shiny black loafers, and even a black bowtie that was half undone.

Actually, now that Harry took in Malfoy's appearance a bit more, he noticed that his enemy had a rather messy look about him. His platinum blond hair wasn't slicked back neatly as usual, but it was sort of mussed, and his suit was wrinkled. Harry's eyes narrowed at Malfoy.

"As grade school as this is going to sound, Malfoy: I asked you first." Harry thought it was rather odd that Malfoy was wandering around a muggle neighborhood in muggle clothing right near a muggle homicide. "Do you realize that a few doors down from where we're standing, and in the direction that _you_ were headed, a muggle was found murdered?"

Malfoy didn't so much as flinch. Indeed, after a moment or two, he gave a sort of sardonic laugh, and then shrugged once more, "What's that got to do with me, Potter? I'm just out…taking a stroll."

"Oh, don't stand there and pretend you're here out of pure coincidence, Malfoy. _You're_ the one behind these murders. I just know it." Harry stalked forward, his wand arm came up, and he didn't stop walking until the wand tip was pressed against Malfoy's adam's apple, "And I'll catch you."

With an elegant sweep of his hand that, for some unknown reason to Harry made his stomach knot up, Malfoy pushed Harry's wand aside. He was looking at Harry through half-closed eyes, the silver irises, still reflecting the light, shone through his lashes, and Harry swallowed. Malfoy took a step forward, and when he spoke his voice was taunt with anger and loathing, "_Don't_ threaten me, Potter. Just because you're the Ministry's little Golden Boy, just as you were Dumbledore's, doesn't mean I'm afraid of you. Pull that wand on me again without justifiable cause, and I'll beat bloody hell out of you."

It took Harry a moment, but he finally regained his voice, and he replied, in the same angry tone, "Do you realize that you just threatened an auror, Malfoy?"

"I just told you I'm not afraid of you. Do you really think your being an auror effects that decision?" Malfoy leaned away from Harry, widening the space between them from mere inches to half a foot, and Harry suddenly found it _much _easier to draw a breath. Malfoy sniffed loudly, "You're a git, Potter. Now get the fuck out of my way."

And without another word, Malfoy rounded Harry and continued walking up the street. Harry just stood there, rooted to the spot, trying to calm his shaking hands. Because suddenly…they wouldn't stop trembling.

* * *


	3. Curious Encounter, Reflections, Shock

* * *

_Chapter Two: A Curious Encounter, Reflections, and a Shock_

Draco Malfoy walked easily and self-assuredly to the end of the street, and then turned the corner. Once he was sure he was out of Potter's sight, however, his cocky attitude melted like an ice cube tossed into a kiln. He slumped against a white fence that blocked a yard from view, and let out a huff of air. His nerves were positively in frays and his head felt clouded and dim. His every thought seemed to come to him from far away, as though his thoughts weren't his own, but someone else's. He ran a long-fingered hand through his slightly messy hair, and let out another huff of air.

_What am I doing here? Where is _here?

Fifteen minutes ago, Draco had suddenly become aware of the fact that he was walking down a street, the sun was out, and, from the look of muggles getting into their cars with a briefcase in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, it was morning time. What was so confusing to Draco was that he had no idea how he had come to be on that street. The last thing he remembered was attending a muggle awards show the previous night. He didn't remember leaving the show. He didn't remember any of the awards being handed out or, indeed, what they were even_for_. Hell, he didn't know what had possessed him to go to a muggle awards show in the first place. He was pretty sure it had something to do with a woman, but the facts were still hazy, and it hurt to even try to think about it.

He ran his fingers through his hair again. After a moment or two more of leaning against the fence, he righted himself and looked up and down the street before turning on spot and – _Crack_! _–_disapperating. When his world became stable again he was standing in the hallway of his flat, just in front of the entrance. Bending over, he untied the laces on his shoes, and then slid them off. Picking them up, he placed them on the small shoe rack that was sitting against the wall before heading down the hall and entering into the main room of the flat, the living area. What he saw there stopped him dead in his tracks, and it seemed as though the very breath in his body had evacuated and no amount of trying to breathe was working, because he couldn't remember how.

The man standing there, in between Draco and Draco's couch, that had so thoroughly surprised him, was none other than Draco's own father. How this was possible, Draco wasn't too sure. The last he had known both of his parents were in Azkaban Prison. Indeed, he had been to see them just last week. He took a step forward, and his voice was filled with shock as he whispered, "Father?"

Lucius Malfoy nodded his head slightly forward, and Draco noticed how his father's once-platinum blond hair – much like his own – was now mostly gray, his skin that usually seemed to glow almost ethereally had a gray tinge to it, and he looked skinny, and weak. Draco had not noticed these things the week before at Azkaban. This was mainly because the interior of Azkaban was kept in almost complete darkness as Dementors did not need light to see, and prisoners did not need light to see either as they were there to rot, not examine their surroundings.

Draco took another step forward, "Father? How…what…?"

But his father held up a thin, corpse-like hand, and Draco immediately fell silent. The silence in the room didn't last long for in the next moment, Lucius was speaking, his voice feeble as he said, "Do not ask questions, Draco. I haven't the time to answer them. Which I've told you before. I'm only here to tell you what must be done next."

Draco looked completely confused, as a fine, thin brow lifted above his eye, "I'm sorry? You've told me before? What I have to do next? What did I do first? Why are you here?"

"_Draco_!" His father's weak voice boomed, and Draco fell quiet again, "I will not repeat myself. As I was saying, your next task is-"

And Draco saw his father's mouth moving, and Draco knew his father was speaking, and Draco even heard the vibrations of sound moving into his ear, but for the life of him, Draco couldn't understand any of it. He continued to wear that completely perplexed expression until his father's mouth closed, and only silence filled the space between father and son. Draco opened his mouth to tell his father he didn't understand, that he would have to repeat himself, but, again, Lucius simply held up a hand to still his son's words before he turned on spot. _Crack_! And Lucius was gone leaving Draco even _more_confused.

Now, Draco's first thought was that he should, straight away, contact the ministry, and find out how his father was out of Azkaban when he was supposed to be serving a life sentence, but he quickly pushed that idea aside. If his father had, in some manner, managed to escape that Hellish place, Draco would not be the one to alert the authorities. He also couldn't help but wonder, or hope, that if his father was free, then so was his mother. He wished dearly, however, that he could have understood what his father had been saying to him. Convinced that his incapability of understanding was due to the fact that he was still suffering from being unable to remember what happened last night and how he'd got onto that muggle street, he moved out of the living area, and into his bedroom.

A king sized bed covered in a thick, silver comforter with big, plush pillows to match was directly in the middle of the room in front of an entire wall made of windows that looked down upon London. Of course, the windows weren't really there. When Draco had moved in, there had just been a wall there, but, Draco, not wanting to stare at an ugly, stone-tiled wall enchanted it to look like what was before him now. He moved over to stand next to his bed, staring down into the streets of London below him, and once more tried to recall the events of the previous night.

But when it all came down to it, he just _couldn't _remember. For all he knew, Potter was right and he had murdered that muggle woman. Not that that was any big loss to the world, but Potter being right grated on his nerves. He could feel a sneer pulling at his lips even now. The hatred that he felt for that man was only overwhelmed by how very much he would like to kill him.

Draco bit into his bottom lip as he recalled their encounter from earlier. It had been nearly two years since Draco had last seen Potter. After the messy events of the war, Voldemort's demise, and then his parents imprisonment, Draco had gone to live in the United States with a distant cousin of his mothers, after narrowly avoiding Azkaban himself. Draco had finished his last year of school at the American magical school, and then spent a further year in the states because he was too big of a coward to come back and face the English Magical Community.

He would not easily admit it to anyone but himself and his mother, but Draco was exceedingly ashamed of his dealings with Voldemort and his motley crew of Death Eaters. Of course, that did not mean that he was ashamed of some of his thoughts. He still believed that magic should only be taught to those of pure-blood, and, perhaps, half-bloods, but_never_ a mudblood like that _filthy_ Hermione Granger. But now wasn't the time to reflect on that infuriating girl.

It was not in a Malfoy's blood to sit forever as a coward, and Draco had eventually put his spinelessness aside and came back home. After a month in the mansion, however, he had grown tired with the too large rooms that were always cold, the long hallways filled with shiny armor that no one had ever worn, and the countless number of elf servants that were constantly wanting to wait on him when he just wanted to be left alone. After that month, he had gone out to find his own place, and when he found this flat six months ago, he had found his home. The only things magical in his flat were the wall of windows and a house-elf named Tibs that had refused to be left behind in the mansion. As a matter of fact, Tibs had even followed Draco to the states.

As though the house-elf knew his master was thinking about him, Tibs came into Draco's bedroom, carrying a tray with a teacup and a small plate of crackers on it. The house-elf sat the plate down on the bedside table, and then bowed deep, "Tibs thought Master might be a bit peckish, as Master is just now coming home after being gone for two days."

Draco was reaching for the cup of tea when Tibs' words fell on his ears, and his hand stilled as he looked at the elf in shock, "Two days? I haven't been home in _two days_?" And here he had been thinking that he was only missing a few hours from his life. Now he learned he was missing two nights and a day in between.

The elf looked up at his master, his eyes wide, and wearing a frown that bespoke his worry, just as his voice reflected it, "Master left not last night, but the night before to go to a muggle awards show for actors. Master has not been back since. Tibs was _very_ worried."

Draco looked out the window for a moment, and then looked back down at Tibs, "Tell me everything that happened two days ago. Leave _nothing_ out."

* * *


	4. Midnight Escapades

* * *

_Chapter Three: Midnight Escapades_

Inside his cubicle, back at the office, Harry was staring down at several photos laid out before him. They were all of the muggle victims, and though he was supposed to be examining them (for the hundredth time) for the missing something, he hadn't yet got around to it. Instead, his emerald eyes were glazed over and unfocused. His mind was too occupied with something, or rather, _someone_ else to pay attention to seemingly unsolvable muggle homicides.

After Draco Malfoy had disappeared around the corner of the street, it had been quite some time before Harry had finally disapperated back to the ministry. At first, he had just wanted to quell his trembling hands before he left, but, failing in that small mission, he had instead set out to talk to the neighbors that lived by the dead muggle girl.

He most specifically asked if they remembered seeing a tall, handsome man with slicked back platinum blond hair and shining silver eyes accompanying the woman at any point in the last few days, and it was only when a woman had given him a knowing smile and asked if he were really just the jealous lover of the man in question that had him knocking on her door since he _obviously_ wasn't a police officer, that Harry had stopped using the words 'handsome' and 'shining' in his description. Not that it mattered what words Harry did or did not use. No one had remembered seeing anyone with the girl. As far as anyone had known, the muggle girl (Sarah) had been single, and they attributed that to the fact that she was always working.

However, the fact that Harry had been compelled to use the words 'handsome' and 'shining' with Draco Malfoy in mind, hence technically in the same sentence, deeply disturbed him. There was nothing about Malfoy that was either handsome or shining. An unbidden image of Malfoy's face swan into Harry's mind's eye, and he groaned as his hands started to shake again, and there was a sudden fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach.

_Oh this is absolutely ridiculous. _I_ do not_ like _Draco Malfoy_.

No sooner had he this thought then a friendly voice fell on his ear, "Harry…you have the look of a man that's completely preoccupied."

To which Harry almost fell out of chair he flinched so badly as he was pulled out of his reverie and other inner thoughts that were now in a massive mental war with each other. He turned slightly and looked up into the face of his best friend of eight years, Ron Weasley. The man smiled and patted Harry on the shoulder.

"You know, Harry, I get that look sometimes too." Ron waved his wand and a chair appeared where none had been before, and he settled himself into it as he looked at Harry, a rather perceptive grin on his face.

Harry cleared his throat, looked away from Ron, and started to pile the crime-scene photos back together, "I'm sorry, Ron – what are you talking about? What look?"

"Oh, you know, Harry. The look of a man in love."

Harry tried very hard then not to turn eighty-three different shades of red, but he could feel the back of his neck burning, and knew he had failed, even as he said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh really? Then why won't you look at me, mate?" There was a slight note of amusement in Ron's voice.

Harry immediately turned his head and looked at his friend, "There. I'm looking at you."

This didn't seem to make Ron's thoughts of Harry being in love evaporate. Indeed, if anything, it made that knowing smile on his lips widen, and his eyes gleam with a certain mischievousness that made Harry feel sort of uneasy.

"Oh, come off it, Ron. I'm not in love. I haven't even been seeing anyone. Just because you and Hermione have decided to tie the knot doesn't mean that everyone else around you is thinking along the same lines."

Ron's grin widened even further.

"I am _not_ in love!" Harry yelled in a voice that was a little too loud and had many auror heads turning in their direction. Harry, feeling his neck heat up again lowered his voice and whispered defiantly, "I'm not."

Ron stood up from the chair, "Well, if you're not in love, then something's got you all messed up anyway. That look you had on a moment ago only stems from two things, Harry."

Harry chuckled, "Oh yeah? Well, what's the other, since I'm not, I repeat: _not_ in love?"

Ron shrugged, waved his wand, and the chair disappeared, "Oh, you know, mate."

Harry stared blankly at Ron.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Indigestion, Harry. _Indigestion_." And then laughing loudly, Ron turned and walked up the aisle, back to his own auror cubicle.

--------

Harry stood up from his cubicle and stretched. It had been a very long day, and, not for the first time, he was last in leaving auror headquarters here at the ministry. After Ron had finally left him alone, Harry had once more examined the photos and this time, he paid attention. Of course, the fact that he had to cast a concentration charm on himself to focus still irritated him, but he had, at last, found something he could check further into from one of the photos.

Leaving the office, he headed for the elevator which took him up to the atrium. He was heading toward a designated disapperation and apperation location when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps coming from the visitor's entrance. Harry lifted his arm and looked at his watch. It was midnight. Why would anyone be entering the ministry from that area? Reaching into his cloak, Harry pulled his wand from an inside pocket, raised it, and tapped himself on the head muttering the spell for the Disillusionment Charm since he didn't have his invisibility cloak on hand. Not that he needed it anymore. Whenever Harry wanted to be invisible, he simply used the charm Mad-Eye had once used on him that had made him like a chameleon. But, unlike Mad-Eye, Harry could cast the spell so powerfully that he now shared something (among other things) in common with his old mentor and father-figure, Dumbledore: he didn't need an invisibility cloak to become invisible. He felt the old, familiar feeling of something cold and wet trickling down his neck and back, and, the next moment, he couldn't see his own hand before his face.

Harry moved over to stand next to the fountain and wait for the shadow that was growing closer and closer to be lit up by the dim lights in the atrium. Of course, when the person's long, lithe figure was finally illuminated, Harry strongly wished that he had just ignored the footsteps and went on home. How it could be his luck to run into Malfoy twice in a handful of hours when he hadn't even seen him in two years before that was beyond him. What God had he pissed off now?

Malfoy was dressed in long, flowing mid-night blue, almost black, robes that complimented his hair and ethereal complexion, and seemed to make his all ready bright, silver eyes even more bright and lively. Harry's stomach started to knot up again, butterflies once more fluttered about, and his hands were shaking once more. Harry tried to tear his eyes away from the man, but found he was incapable of doing so. Instead, he watched as Malfoy quickly moved over to the elevator and pressed a button that had the doors creaking open. Silently, Harry moved after Malfoy, and slid into the elevator right before the doors closed. He then shoved himself in the right, front corner. Malfoy was standing directly in the middle of the elevator so there was no way Harry would be able to get around him without Malfoy becoming suspicious.

As the elevator slowly made its way to its destination, Harry's eyes ran over the plains of Malfoy's face. His vision swept over the bridge of Malfoy's nose, across his cheekbones, down to linger on his lips. Once, Malfoy had reminded Harry of a pinch-faced rat, but, somewhere along the line, that had radically changed. Malfoy's face had softened and become smooth. Indeed, thought Harry, Malfoy had a sort of feminism look about his features, but, at the same time, there was no denying the masculinity of him either.

Suddenly, Malfoy looked right at Harry, or rather, through him. It was at this moment that Harry realized that, at some point, he had taken several steps forward, had raised his hand, and his fingers were hovering not even an inch away from Malfoy's lips. Harry swallowed. The fact that Malfoy was looking at/through him meant that Malfoy had felt something. Harry didn't dare move. But if he didn't soon, then, when those doors opened, Malfoy would run right into Harry, and, disillusionment charm or not, he would be exposed.

The elevator slowed and Malfoy reached up to run his hand back through his hair at the same time that Harry took a step backwards. Malfoy didn't seem to notice, so Harry took another, quickly followed by another. When the doors slid open, Harry backed up quickly into the hall until he felt his back pressed against the wall opposite of the doors. Malfoy reached up and pulled at the collar on his robes, straightening them, before he stepped out of the elevator. He then turned right, and preceded up the hall.

Harry stood where he was for a moment. He pulled in a deep breath, and his lungs screamed their gratefulness as he had been depriving them, for longer than he had known, of their much needed oxygen. Finally, he stepped away from the wall, and looked around. His brow went up. He was back on his floor. And Malfoy was headed toward the Auror Department. Harry turned, and quickly followed the man until he found himself standing next to his own cubicle, that he had left not ten minutes ago, while Malfoy opened drawers apparently looking for something.

Harry didn't lift the disillusionment charm. Not yet, anyway. He wanted to see_ exactly_ what Malfoy was up to first. However, Harry was smiling. He had accused Malfoy sixteen hours previous of being the person behind the muggle homicides, and now Malfoy was here digging through Harry's belongings. Harry continued to watch as Malfoy opened up the top drawer of the file cabinet, sifted through the files, and then pulled out a manila envelope. Harry knew what was in that envelope. He had just put the crime-scene photos back into it before leaving his cubicle. Harry's smile widened. He had Malfoy now. The insufferable, evil man had managed to escape Azkaban two years ago, but Harry wouldn't let that happen again.

However, for now, he would just continue to watch. He had to make sure he had irrefutable proof so that nothing could go wrong when he finally made the arrest.

--------

Draco sat down in Potter's chair, and lifted the clasp on the envelope before tipping it over and sliding the photos out into his waiting hand. He quickly spread them out before him and looked down at them. Horror seized his heart. Every person in the photos looked undeniably familiar to him. Sinking back into the cushioned seat, he reached up and ran his hand down his face in an irritated, hopeless gesture. How could this be? How could he have killed all of these muggles and never known a thing about it? Hell, he still couldn't recall the acts, but he could recall their faces, and that was proof enough wasn't it? _Wasn't it_?

Draco pulled in a deep breath as a feeling of grief washed over him. With that breath, however, something else washed over him. He felt a tightening in his loins and his all ready frazzled nerves became even more stressed. He had had this feeling a few minutes ago in the elevator too. And it was odd, because there was nothing around to make Draco feel lascivious. However, there was a faint scent in the air that he didn't rightly recognize. He pulled in another deep breath and realized that it smelled stronger than it had in the elevator. And then, with another sudden realization, he stood abruptly from Potter's seat and stared, horrified, around the small cubicle. Potter spent hours upon hours in this tiny thing day after day, and it was only reasonable that the tiny area would become suffused with Potter's scent.

Draco shook his head, positively aghast, and started to back out of the cubicle. Of course, he didn't get very far before he realized he needed to put the photos back in their envelope. He reached down and gathered them all up and then shoved them haphazardly back into the envelope before he then shoved that unceremoniously back into the filing cabinet. He then didn't waste a moment longer in Potter's cubicle. He turned and practically _ran_ up the aisle until he was back out in the hallway. He took a moment, straightening his robes, running his hand through his hair, and then he chuckled, looking down at his own crotch in mock amusement, "Turned on by Potter? That's great, Draco – _fuckin' great_."

---------

Harry continued to watch carefully as Malfoy examined the photos. When Malfoy got a look of horror on his face and leaned back in the chair, Harry felt his brow raise. Was he right, then? _Was_ Malfoy guilty of murdering those muggles? Figuring that he was still questioning the circumstances himself, he decided to continue watching Malfoy to see what he would do next.

When Malfoy suddenly shot out Harry's chair and looked around as though in a bewildered state, Harry thought for a second that Malfoy must be completely insane. He watched as Malfoy turned to leave, but then stopped and put the photos back into the envelope and then that into the filing cabinet before fleeing from the auror office. Harry quickly followed. If he could just get that unquestionable evidence against Malfoy it would truly make his day. And he would follow him, invisible like this, for as long as he needed to until he got it.

"Turned on by Potter? That's great, Draco – _fuckin' great_."

Harry blinked, "What?" and then he reached up and covered his mouth with his hand because that word had come out loudly in the stillness of the hall.

Slowly, Malfoy turned around, his eyes searching, futilely, the hallway where Harry was standing. He took a step back toward Harry while at the same time he pulled his wand from an inside pocket of his robe, his brows narrowed in confusion, "Who's there?"

Harry didn't say anything. Instead, he took a step backwards.

Malfoy took another step forward, his wand rising into the air, "Show yourself."

Harry started to turn back into the auror office, but was stilled as he suddenly heard the countercharm to his disillusionment spell being hissed, quickly followed by a hot trickling sensation washing down his neck and back, and he knew he was exposed before he even heard Malfoy hiss once more, "_Potter_."

Harry quickly turned, raising his wand, but the lead auror was too slow.

"Impedimenta!" Malfoy shouted and Harry not only felt his legs bind together, but he was also blown backwards ten feet. When he came down on his back, he let out a bark of pain as shocks of agony thundered through his back and the back of his head. Looking up through eyes that had everything spinning before him, he saw Malfoy standing over him, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"Be careful of what you do next, Malfoy. I _am_ an auror after all," Harry growled.

Malfoy smiled, "What did I tell you earlier? I see that small brain of yours still doesn't function quite right. Very well, I'll remind you." Malfoy lifted his wand, "I. Am not. Afraid. Of you." After every pause in his words, he'd bounce his wand up and down, and a jet of sparks irritatingly showered down into Harry's face.

Harry glared at the man above him, "Don't even think you'll get away with this, Malfoy!"

Malfoy's evil smile widened even further, "Stupefy," he said matter-of-factly, his wrist flicking slightly.

Harry registered a flashing red light, and then everything went black.

* * *


	5. Obliviate

* * *

_Chapter Four: Obliviate_

Harry Potter was lying unconscious before him, sprawled out on the floor, and all Draco could stare at was the man's lips. Rolling his eyes at his behavior, Draco flicked his wand in the direction of Potter and muttered, "Mobilicorpus." Potter's body levitated off the ground, and, with direction of Draco's wand, began to move toward the elevator. Despite his demented desires for Potter, Draco's mind had all ready hatched a plan to cover up his little midnight escapade into the Auror Department.

Once they were in the elevator, Potter floating beside him, Draco started to dig through the other man's robes until he finally withdrew a wallet. Draco wasn't in the slightest bit surprised that Potter had such a muggle device. After all, Potter was an auror which meant that sometimes he would find himself working alongside the muggle police. Flipping open the wallet, Malfoy looked at Potter's ID, which, lucky for him, had Potter's residence listed. Also, lucky for him, Potter only lived about six blocks away from the magical ministry.

In the atrium, Draco directed himself and Potter toward the visitor entrance. Once they reached the phone booth Draco took in the small confines, and then gave his wand a little nifty wave in Potter's direction that made the man's body rise slowly into a standing position. He then moved Potter into the booth and squeezed in after him. Even with keeping Potter's body as far away as he could it still left he and Potter brushing up against each other in some small manner. This booth wasn't meant for more than one person, after all.

Draco tried very hard to ignore the feeling of Potter bumping into him, along with the man's insufferable cologne, that had his head spinning, as the booth slowly made its way up to the street. It was absolutely ridiculous for him to be feeling this way. How Draco found himself attracted to his old nemesis was quite beyond him. It was absolutely absurd, preposterous, and completely undeniable if the feeling in his pants was anything to go by. A moment later the sudden stopping of the booth jolted Potter's body forward, forcing the two men into standing flush together. Because Potter was unconscious, his head was drooping, and had, therefore, come to a rest on Draco's shoulder. Draco could feel the other man's slow, steady breath on his neck, and he gave an involuntary shudder.

He waved his wand and Potter's body levitated backwards and then out through the doors that had opened. Once they were both standing on the street, Draco looked up and down it to make sure no muggles were out for a late-night stroll before he continued directing Harry's body. He kept the other man's body vertical, and slightly close to him as they moved up the street, his wand he also kept hidden by shoving his wand arm into his cloak and maneuvering Potter through the fabric.

When they were only a block away from Potter's residence, Draco heard footsteps coming at them, and he immediately pocketed his wand completely, muttering a foul curse word as he did. As soon as the spell was cut, Potter began to fall forward, but before he could hit the ground, Draco caught him, and brought him back into a standing position. Against his better judgment, Draco brought one of Potter's arms up and draped it over the back of his own shoulder, keeping a tight hold on the man's wrist with one hand, before he let his other arm sneak around Potter's back to grasp the man's waist. He had to pull the other man close to keep Potter righted beside him.

No sooner had he finished their pose then an officer came walking around the corner up ahead. Draco continued up the street toward the approaching officer acting as though absolutely nothing was out of the ordinary. Before he could pass the officer, the man stopped, and took in the pair.

"What do we have here?" The officer's voice rang out as his small, black, beady eyes, set into a face that looked somewhat like a hob-goblin, looked first at Potter, obviously unconscious, and then moved to stare at Draco.

Draco grinned, "My friend here had _way_ too much to drink."

The officer looked at Potter again, and then back to Draco, "Is that so?" His voice was overflowing with suspicion.

Draco felt himself getting irritated, but he ignored the feeling as he nodded, "Yeah. I told him to quit after the fifth one, but you know – he_never_ listens."

"Uh huh," said the officer, "There's no pubs around here."

Draco didn't so much as even flinch. However, his voice was filled with annoyance when he spoke, "Oh? Well, I didn't say we were at a pub, now did I? We were at a friend's place."

"You were at a friend's place." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and Draco knew the officer was thinking that Draco was lying to his face. Which Draco was, but he refused to be caught by a damn worthless muggle. "What are your names?"

Draco frowned, and then spouted out the first thing he thought of, "Lucius Potter and James Malfoy." He then chuckled, shaking his head some, "You know, I really should get this guy home – if he stays out too late his girlfriend goes absolutely bonkers. You know what I mean, I'm sure?"

The officer seemed to be considering something further, but then he simply nodded, "Yes. Well, be on your way then. And try not to cause any trouble."

Draco shook his head, "Of course not, Officer," he bowed his head slightly forward, gritting his teeth as he did so, "Have a good night."

The officer nodded back, "You too."

The officer continued on by, and Draco once more started forward. His eyes were narrowed in deep annoyance from his encounter with the muggle officer, and he was even more frustrated that he was now stuck carrying Potter home, because if he made the man levitate once more there was a chance that irritating officer would come back and catch him at it.

However, Draco wasn't used to toting the full weight of another person, and so, when he turned the corner, he moved over to a wall, and leaned Potter against it. As soon as he let go, Potter started to slide down the wall, and Draco reached out, catching the man for the second time that night. He pressed the other man into the wall with his own body, bringing them flush together yet again. Potter's head even fell back onto Draco's shoulder, and Draco gave a little groan as the unmistakable feeling of desire washed over him for the hundredth time that night.

Draco stared at the brick wall before him as he allowed himself a moment's reprieve from his usual cold, stand-offish manner, as he allowed himself to enjoy the feel of Potter's body pressed into his, as he allowed himself to take pleasure in the man's warm breath on the side of his neck. Moving and then tilting his head slightly, Draco looked down into Potter's relaxed features. Potter had never been ugly, awkward, yes, but never ugly. With the passing of time, however, Potter's features had completely left behind awkward and became, instead, slightly chiseled, very masculine, and the very definition of gorgeous.

Draco wasn't for sure how he had never noticed before. Of course, he had always disliked Potter, _hated_ him, as a matter of fact, but he had hated and disliked a lot of people back in his Hogwarts days, and he had still noticed how attractive or unattractive they were. Hermione Granger, for instance, even with her bushy hair, had been very pretty. And Ron Weasley, once he had moved away from his gawky teenage years, had been an awfully good-looking man. If he had hated anyone nearly as much as Potter it had been Granger and Weasley, and he had noticed them. So…why not Potter?

Draco lifted one of his hands and let his fingers glide over Potter's face. He had a deep, aching desire to kiss the other man, and he was getting ready to push Potter back against the wall, and do just that when he heard footsteps coming from around the corner. "Damn it," Draco hissed. If it was that officer again then there would only be problems. Hoping that nothing bad would come of this, Draco grabbed onto Potter's shoulders, closed his eyes, and then – _CRACK!_ – disapperated.

As they traveled through the chaos that was this method, Draco tried very hard to pay attention to where they were going, and it was only by sheer luck that when they finally – _CRACK!_ – appearated, it was two inches to the left of a coffee table, instead of two inches to the right which would have meant having to calling the magic reversal squad to fix the mess of Draco and Potter being one with a piece of furniture.

Draco's arms, had, at some point while traveling, wrapped tightly around Potter's body so that he was holding him in a close-fitting hug. Draco knew they were in Potter's flat, but he didn't stop to look around. Instead, he loosened his arms around Potter, and then bent slightly to side one of his arms behind Potter's knees while the other slid behind Potter's shoulders. Lifting the man into the air, and trying not to struggle too much under his weight, Draco turned and headed down the only hallway. The first door he passed, after kicking it open and looking in, was just a bathroom. The second door was a room filled with auror gadgets and instruments, and so he continued on to the last door.

The room that met his eyes, when he kicked the door open, made them widen in shock. Figuring that one hadn't greeted them upon apperating into the flat must mean that Potter didn't have a house-elf, which, not being greeted put aside, was still obvious from the utter chaos that was Potter's room. There were robes and muggle clothes both thrown about the room, the bed was unmade, there were crumpled up balls of paper scattered about, and on the bedside table there was half a piece of uneaten chocolate cake and a half-full glass of milk.

A brow rose above Draco's eye, but he moved into the room, regardless, walking toward the unmade bed. He gently placed Potter upon it, and then took a step away. Reaching inside of his robe, he grabbed his wand, and pulled it out of the inside pocket. He then pointed it at Potter, "Rennervate."

A jet of red light erupted from his wand and struck Potter. A moment later, the man stirred, and then slowly sat up, one of his hands helping to push his body up, the other hand rising to push back his eternally-messy black hair. He then opened his eyes, blinked once, twice, and then they went wide as a rush of memories probably assaulted him. He turned and stared up at Draco, his eyes burning with anger, "What the fu-"

"Obliviate."

Potter's glare melted and was replaced by one of curiosity. Draco knew that right now, Potter was _extremely_ vulnerable. Draco could tell him anything he pleased to, and Potter would swallow it.

Potter raised a brow, "Where am I?"

Draco didn't say anything. At the moment, he was too lost in thinking something over.

"What are you doing in my flat, Draco?"

Draco made up his mind then, because he had never heard Potter say his name without a large amount of hatred distilled into it, like he just had, and that just sent his rational flying out the window. He tucked away his wand, moved back to the bed, and sat down beside Potter.

He turned and looked down at the man, his eyes inflamed with passion, "You're just dreaming, Harry." And then he bent and placed his lips against…Harry's.

* * *


	6. A Pleasant Dream and a New Task

* * *

_Chapter Five: A Pleasant Dream and a New Task_

Harry awoke the next morning with a headache that felt like his head was t-minus ten seconds from imploding. He rolled over and sat up at the same time so that his bare feet planted against the plush carpet. He still didn't open his eyes. Instead, he occupied himself with rubbing his temples gently in clockwise movements. He felt as though he had drunk an entire keg of firewhisky the previous night, but he knew he hadn't even been to a pub. No. He had…

He had….

Well, he had…

Harry opened his eyes. That was odd. The memory of last night was fuzzy. Figuring that it was just his horrible headache stopping his memory from doing its job, he stood up from his bed, and decided on taking a shower. Reaching down to the hem of his nightshirt, he pulled it up, and over his head, before sliding his boxers off as well. His clothes discarded, he left his room, went up the hall, and into the bathroom. To bring himself out of the hung-over feeling he was experiencing he took as cold a shower as he could stand, and by the time he stepped out his head was clear, and last night was no longer fuzzy.

Harry had appearated home, made himself a small snack, and then after changing into his nightclothes, had passed out on his bed. And then…well….

Harry felt a blush creep its way up his neck and onto his face. He avoided looking into the mirror, then, as the dream he had had last night infiltrated his mind. He felt a mixture of deep craving and shame as the images played out before his mind's eye.

In his dream, he had woken up to find Malfoy standing wordlessly next to his bed. Harry, too confused as to the man's presence in his bedroom to be angry, asked Malfoy what he was doing there. The man had stood silent only for a moment longer before sitting down on the bed, and after declaring Harry was just dreaming – which, of course he was – had kissed him. And since it was a dream, why should Harry deny that familiar fluttering sensation in his stomach, and the desire that swept through him at the feeling of Malfoy's silky lips pressed against his own dry ones? Harry had reached up, his hands cradling Malfoy's face before pushing back to tangle in sleek strands of blond hair. And slowly, he had felt himself being pressed back into his soft mattress and pillows, and he had went willingly as Malfoy's hands both pushed and caressed at his chest.

With his head lying against the pillows, he had spread his legs slightly so that Malfoy could lie down in between them which Malfoy had been quick to do, though only after standing up for a moment to discard the cloak he was wearing. He had then stretched out on top of Harry, one of his hands gently resting against Harry's cheek as he had continued kissing him, the other hand moving down Harry's side to grip tightly onto Harry's waist. His hand had then worked its way underneath Harry until it was resting against the bottom of Harry's butt before sliding down the back of his leg and to the back of his knee where he had gently pulled until Harry had brought his leg up. Malfoy's hand had then worked its way around to the front of Harry's leg, up and over Harry's knee, before retracing its path back to Harry's waist.

Meanwhile, on the kissing front, Malfoy and Harry exchanged soft, but deeply passionate kisses that soon had them both breathing extremely heavy. Malfoy had eventually wandered away from Harry's lips to press kisses down his jaw line and then into the curve of his neck. When Malfoy's teeth had gently nipped the bottom of Harry's ear, Harry had bucked upwards, and the action had caused their lower body's to grind against one another. Malfoy had let out an agonizingly low groan that had made Harry both shiver and give off a slight moan of his own. Plus, it made him do it again, just so he could tear another passion-induced sound from Malfoy. And it did. However, when Harry went to do it a third time, Malfoy's hand on his waist became tight, and Harry felt the lower part of himself pinned down to the bed. Despite his movements being restricted, he had continued to enjoy the feeling of Malfoy suckling on his neck, on his lips, and even the feeling of the man's bare fingers against his chest as they had worked up and under Harry's white, long-sleeved shirt.

After that, the dream grew hazy and distorted, consisting of broken images of Malfoy pulling Harry's clothes off, Malfoy putting his cloak on, and then Malfoy giving Harry a smug smile before disapperating from Harry's bedroom all together. The dream had then turned into somewhat of a nightmare involving the muggle homicides he was currently investigating.

Harry met his eyes in the mirror as he closed the medicine cabinet over the sink, and he was mortified to see unadulterated lust reflected back at him. As if the hardening in between his legs hadn't been enough humiliation. He brought his eyes down to stare resolutely at his toothbrush. He did not like Malfoy. He was not attracted to Malfoy. And he had no idea where these thoughts, feelings, and dreams (because this wasn't the first one, though, admittedly, it was the most real) were coming from, but he refused, _absolutely refused,_ to give in. Looking back up at his reflection he was glad to see only frustration, and nothing else in his green eyes. Nodding, he brought up his toothbrush, and continued his morning routine.

---------

Harry decided to stop by the auror office before he went out to investigate the muggle homicides again. He wanted to grab the picture that had revealed something he could investigate further. Apperating from his apartment to a designated area inside the ministry, Harry made his way back to Auror Headquarters where he opened his filing cabinet, and then promptly lifted a brow.

The manila envelope that held the photos was lying practically on top of the other files, only a corner of it shoved in between two other envelopes. Grabbing the envelope, he walked over to his desk, sat down in his chair, and then reached inside the envelope, pulling the photos out. The photos were shoved inside quite randomly, some of them even upside down or flipped over, and Harry's brow went up further. Someone had obviously been into this envelope since Harry had left last night. For, Harry had put all of the photos back neatly, not to mention putting the entire envelope into its proper place in the filing cabinet. But why would anyone go digging through his cases photographs, and then tuck them away completely chaotically as though they were seconds away from being discovered?

Harry pushed his chair back and stood up. Holding the envelope in his hand, he moved up the aisle until he reached Ron's cubicle. Ron was sitting at his own desk, filling out, what looked to be, a report, and Harry almost turned away, not wanting to disturb him – since he knew how damn annoying those reports were – when Ron looked over and up at Harry.

"Morning, Harry. Late night last night?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah. I was here until midnight looking over these photos again."

"Honestly think you're going to find something in pictures you've looked at a million times?"

"Actually, I did last night, but that's not why I'm standing here."

Ron stood up, moving to his own filing cabinet. As he pulled the drawer open and started to dig around inside the messy and completely unorganized contents, he spoke over his shoulder, "Oh? Then what do you want, mate?" Ron turned to look at Harry, a huge grin on his face, "Come to talk about what I mentioned yesterday?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, and he roughly said, "No," before clearing his throat, and bringing up the envelope, "Do you know who was here first this morning?"

Ron laughed and nodded, "Sure I do, Harry. The same person that's here first every morning. Hermione."

"Right. Hermione. Don't know what I was thinking. Actually, I've had a headache since I got up this morning."

Ron finally pulled out a file, shut the cabinet, and then turned to look at Harry, a little bit of worry evident by the frown he wore, "Everything all right, mate?"

Harry shrugged, and then nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, I just…" he shrugged again, "Anyway, I'll go talk to Hermione now."

Ron waved to Harry before Harry turned and walked back down the aisle, past his own cubicle, and then down a few more before stopping next to Hermione's desk. She was multi-tasking between eating a biscuit, reading a book, and writing up what looked to be her own report when Harry cleared his throat, and she brought her eyes up to meet his. She smiled, "Good morning, Harry. Something you need?"

"When you got here this morning, was anyone else here?"

Hermione shook her head, "No. Not that I can recall." She looked off to the side for a moment, and then back toward him, shaking her head more firmly, "No. No one. I was the first, as usual. Why do you ask, Harry?"

Harry held up the manila envelope, "This wasn't in the right place in my filing cabinet, and then when I looked inside, the photographs were all mixed up and upside down and flipped over. I didn't put it all away like that last night before leaving, and I was the last to go."

Hermione's lips pursed as she got that old look of inquisitiveness on her features that Harry knew meant her brain had just been pushed into heavy-thinking mode. But after a few moments of silence, she only shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know, Harry. No one was here. I didn't even pass anyone by on my way down here. But if someone's digging into your personal filing cabinet, and examining those photographs, then I would highly suspect that someone in the magical world is committing those muggle homicides."

Harry nodded, "Yeah. That's what I figure too." He started to walk away, but then Hermione spoke up, making him turn back to her.

She was wearing a gleeful smile, "Ron tells me you're in love."

Harry blew air out of his nose like an enraged bull before hissing, "I am_not_ in love."

Hermione only giggled.

----------

Draco was supposed to be eating his breakfast, but his mind was too busy with replaying the events of last night over and over and over to focus on lifting a fork to his mouth. The fact that he had given into his lustful desires and kissed Potter was only acceptable because, as he kept telling himself, if Potter ever found out the man would be beyond mortified, and, if Draco wanted to, he could always use last night's events as blackmail. Of course, he would have a hard time of it, explaining how he'd been at Potter's in the first place to engage Potter in such deliriously demented, yet magnificently wonderful acts, but he was sure he could come up with something if he thought on it long enough.

It had been by sheer force of will that Draco had not completely given in and had his way with Potter, especially when the man had responded so fervently to his fiery kisses and touches, but he figured something like that would be harder to hide away as the man's body would probably be in a fair amount of pain the following morning. And while Draco had left his little make-out session in the back of Potter's mind, laid out as a dream, he wouldn't so easily be able to cover up Potter's lack of being able to sit correctly for a week. He wasn't a mediwizard, after all.

Draco chuckled at the Potter-not-being-able-to-sit-correctly-for-a-week thought before finally lifting the first bit of egg to his mouth. But before he could bite down, his mind chose that particular moment to remind him of the way he'd changed Potter into his nightclothes. And with that reminder came, of course, the images of Potter's almost completely nude body. If he'd just removed those boxers, Potter would have been completely naked before him. But Draco hadn't considered the thought for longer than two seconds before he'd turned to dig through Potter's dresser, pulling out a nightshirt that he'd then gently slid over Potter's head. He'd had to hold the man close to his body as Potter kept slipping in and out of consciousness once Draco had worked the memory charm, and couldn't rightly hold himself up, as Draco had maneuvered the man's arms into the shirt. He had then tenderly laid Potter back into his soft pillows, covered the man up with the sheet and quilt, and then, with a self-satisfied smile, disapperated from the bedroom.

It had only been when Draco was dressing himself into his own nightclothes later that night that he thought of the fact that he could have simply used magic to dress Potter instead of doing it himself. However…well, there was nothing to be done about it by then, and that was that.

Draco stood up from the stool he had been occupying while eating his breakfast, but, realizing that eating was pretty much out of the question at the moment – what with the way his mind was treating him right now – he gave up on the meal, and was getting ready to call for Tibs to clear away the dishes, when he heard a footstep behind him. Turning around, he froze in place, "Father!"

Lucius held up a hand, and Draco thought to himself that his father's constant cutting off of anything Draco wanted to say or do was getting a little bit ridiculous and out of hand. For that reason, he continued, "Father, you need to tell me what you're doing here –_how_ you're getting here. Where is Mother? Does anyone know you've escaped Azkaban? What did you say to me yesterday afternoon? I couldn't understand any of it."

Lucius smiled. And the smile he gave Draco made Draco want to curl up in the fetal position and cower. It was much like Voldemort's sadistic smile; only it had a bit more cockiness to it. When Draco's father had smiled like this in the past, it was usually because something exceedingly evil had just occurred that had extraordinarily pleased his father. For example, this was the smile Draco's father had worn the day he'd heard the news that the Chamber of Secrets had been reopened and Ginny Weasley had been pulled down into its depths. Or, the time he'd been told that Dumbledore had been murdered.

Draco took a step toward his father, "Tell me what's going on."

Lucius didn't say anything at first. He looked around Draco's flat, shaking his head disappointingly, before he looked back to his son, "Draco?"

Draco took another step forward, his eyes staring profoundly deep into his fathers, "Yes?"

"I think it's about time you do that next task, don't you?"

Draco nodded, and bowed slightly, "Of course, Father," and as he turned for the door of his apartment, Tibs, the house-elf, – concealed behind a large Ficus plant sitting in the corner of the living room – frowned deeply at the far-away look in his master's eyes as he talked, once more, to thin air.

* * *


	7. Vital Information

* * *

_Chapter Six: Vital Information_

Harry knocked on the screen door, and then took a step backwards. As he waited for someone on the other side to answer, he reached into the muggle suit jacket he was wearing and pulled out his wallet with his muggle ID along with the photo that had brought him back to the first crime scene. He studied the bottom, left-hand corner where the object lie – unnoticed for near six months now. How he had missed this small, yet significantly _huge_, clue after studying those pictures hundreds of times was beyond him.

Hearing footsteps approaching on the other side of the door, Harry looked up and waited until the door was opened, and a woman looked out at him before raising his hand in greeting. Her brows rose as she stepped up to her screen door, "Detective Potter, what brings you here? Did you find out something new about the case?"

Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot. To buy himself time on how he would ask the woman what he really needed to know, he bowed his head in greeting, "Mrs. Dunn, how are you?"

The woman frowned deeply, "How do you think I am? My son is killed six months ago, and none of you cops have come around to tell me anything. And what's more – I hear more of these murders are happening. Is that true?"

Harry shifted his weight again, "I'm not allowed to speak on those matters, Mrs. Dunn. Actually, I am here with some news. I need you to look at a photograph for me, but only if you think you can. It's a picture of the crime-scene."

Mrs. Dunn's face noticeably grew whiter, but she pushed open the screen door, and Harry stepped inside her house. When they were settled on the couch a few minutes later, Harry set the photo down on the coffee table before them, and after taking a deep breath, the woman turned to look down at it. Harry frowned as he watched the woman's features tighten, and her lips all but disappear inside her mouth as she curled them inwards to keep herself from letting out an audible gasp. He hoped that he would never know the pain that she was currently experiencing.

Eventually, the woman reached out and picked the photo up, bringing it closer to her face, her eyes seemingly drawn to one particular point. Harry leaned toward her, "Do you notice anything?"

The woman sat still and quiet for a moment, and then, a slight blush on her cheeks, pushed the photo back at Harry, "I'm sorry, Detective, but no."

Harry took the photograph from her, "Nothing at all?"

The woman shook her head, but she wasn't looking at Harry, and Harry knew she was lying. Harry turned the photo toward her once more, and placed his finger underneath the left-hand corner, "What about this here?"

Mrs. Dunn turned her eyes in the direction of the photo and looked above Harry's fingernail to where the corner of the _Daily Prophet_ had worked its way into the crime-scene photo. The woman noticeably blanched once again.

"Mrs. Dunn, do you know what that newspaper is?"

The woman shrugged her shoulders, and gave Harry a blank, yet unconvincing stare, "No. I'm sorry." She then stood up and walked to the mantel set above her fireplace, "I'm sorry, Detective Potter, but I'm not feeling too well right now. I think you should leave."

Harry stood up, calmly reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wand, and then pointed it at the woman. When she turned a second later, pointing her own wand at Harry, her eyes widened, "_You_!"

"Mrs. Dunn – you should have alerted the magical ministry about this. Perhaps this investigation would be a lot further than it is now if the auror department had been involved earlier than the third murder."

The woman was still staring at Harry's wand, "You're a – a –_wizard_?" Her eyes then grew so big Harry thought they would pop right out of her head, "Detective Potter? _You're Harry Potter_?"

Now, Harry didn't like to toot his own horn, but he couldn't help being confused as to how the woman had no clue as to who Harry was. Harry's face had been plastered onto the cover of the _Daily Prophet_ so many times, he was surprised _muggles_ didn't know of the 'wonderfully, amazing, Boy Who Lived'.

He finally nodded to the woman's exclamation, and affirmed, "Yes, I am."

The woman turned scarlet, and lowered her wand, "I had no idea. You've changed quite a bit in the two years since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fell." She then bowed slightly, "Please, forgive me, Mr. Potter."

Harry shifted uncomfortably and then placed his wand back into his back pocket, "Yes, well, it's quite all right. Now would you like to tell me about your son, and why everyone thought he was a muggle when you're a witch?"

The woman's blush didn't disappear, but seemed to brighten as she moved back to the couch where she sat down. Harry took his seat beside her, and waited for her to explain.

And after a moment or two, she did, "You see, I would have alerted the ministry if I'd thought magic had been involved in my son's death, but I honestly didn't – he had faults, you know – muggle weaknesses." Her blush intensified, and Harry imagined she must be alluding to drug-use, but didn't say anything. He let the woman continue, "However, when I recently found out that other murders had occurred, all being found with the same strange countenance, I began to wonder. I was actually getting ready to alert the ministry, and get the auror department involved, but," she looked bashfully at Harry, "it would seem you are all ready far ahead of me."

Harry nodded, "All right, but why is he listed as a muggle?"

The woman's blush brightened again, and she squeaked something out that Harry had to ask her twice to repeat, before she finally glared over at him, a hint of humiliation shining in her eyes, "He was a squib, Mr. Potter. _A squib_!"

----------

Back at Auror Headquarters, Harry went back to speak to Hermione. This time, she was sitting amongst several thick volumes that all bore the words "Magical Law" in the title. Sometimes, he found it amazing that Hermione worked for not only one, but two different departments in the ministry. Then again, he would often remind himself, she _was_Hermione. Wondering what sort of new law or change to an old law she was researching now, but knowing he hadn't the time to ask, Harry called her name. To which she didn't respond. Twice more he said her name, and when she still didn't look up, he finally reached out and touched her shoulder.

She jumped and turned, her eyes deer-caught-in-headlights wide, and her mouth slightly rounded in an 'o' shape of surprise, as she gasped, "Harry!"

Harry waved and gave her a lop-sided grin.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there."

"I called your name three times."

Hermione waved her hand in the direction of the books, "I was reading. I'm sorry."

Harry nodded, "Mm. Sound barrier," he said, indicating the massively large books, and then chuckled when she smiled rather sheepishly.

"Anyway, Harry, did you find anything out?"

Harry gave another nod, "Yeah – I actually wanted to ask you if you still have that list of squibs residing in London? You know, the one you pulled up last year?"

Hermione didn't right away answer, but she scooted her chair backwards until she was sitting in front of her filing cabinet. Opening the bottom drawer, she pulled out a thick file which she then handed to him, "Here you are, but why do you need it?" Harry opened his mouth to answer, but then Hermione stood straight up out of her chair, exclaiming, "The muggles are squibs!"

Several auror heads turned in their direction, but they must not have seen anything interesting for they turned away soon after. A second later, Ron was standing next to Harry, his eyes pinned to Hermione as he queried in a rather exasperated voice, "What are you yelling about, 'Mione?"

Hermione looked at Ron, "The muggles are squibs."

Ron blinked and then looked at Harry, "What's she on about, Harry? I can't understand her half the time."

Hermione gave Ron a look that positively radiated the fury of a million suns, but he wasn't paying her any mind as he waited on Harry to answer.

Harry coughed into his open hand, covering the smile on his face. After a moment, he answered, "The murders I've been investigating, Ron. The muggles aren't muggles at all. They're squibs."

Ron nodded, looking rather unimpressed, "Oh."

……

……

"_Honestly_, Ronald, how did you _ever_ pass the tests to become an auror?" spat Hermione.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron's eyes flew to Hermione, the back of his neck turning scarlet at her ridicule.

Harry reached up and clapped a hand down on Ron's shoulder, shaking his head, "Don't worry about it, mate. It's not your case anyway." Harry then looked at Hermione, held up the file slightly, and said, "Thanks."

Hermione nodded, "You're welcome, Harry."

Harry then turned away from the couple, making his way back to his cubicle, but not without the sounds of Hermione and Ron squabbling in heated hisses following after him.

----------

He stepped out of the shower, grabbed the towel off the rack, and tied it securely around his waist. He then walked over to a mirror, taking in his reflection – blond hair, silver-gray eyes, finely crafted features – and he smiled at what he saw. Because, let's face it: who _wouldn't_ like what they saw when they looked at Draco Malfoy? Reaching up, he dragged one of his hands through his wet hair, and his grin widened even further, because he liked the way it looked, and he could just imagine the pleased expressions he would see around him if he did this before others. It was all right, being Draco Malfoy.

"Master, Tibs wants you to know that Tibs took care of the clothes."

Draco turned and looked down at the house-elf, a slight sneer marring his otherwise perfect visage, "What do you want me to do now? Praise you?"

The house-elf looked horrified at the prospect of receiving praise, before he shouted, "No, Master! Tibs just wanted Master to know that Tibs did as Master said."

Draco made a soft, "Hmph," noise before turning back to meet his eyes in the mirror once again, completely unconcerned with the elf, but caught up with his narcistic actions instead.

Tibs frowned, the worry he was feeling obvious not just by this, but also evident in the way he kept subjecting himself to possible horrid confrontations with his master just so he could keep an eye on him. His master was becoming increasingly odd and caught up in himself. Of course, his master had always been somewhat of a pompous wizard – Tibs promised to smash his fingers with a hammer later that night – but lately there was more to it than just that. His master had periods of his life that he couldn't seem to recall.

Tibs doubted that his master would even remember what Tibs had told him just yesterday about the event that had taken place before master had then left the house to go to a muggle awards show before subsequently going missing for two days. Plus, there was always the fact that his master had a knack for talking to thin air, as though someone were standing before him. Most notably, an invisible person that he often called "Father".

Tibs knew that his master was not the most kind wizard in the universe – he'd have to close his head in the oven a couple of times – but he was loyal, regardless, and Tibs had a certain soft spot for the man. Tibs continued to stare up at his master as the man continued to stare at his reflection.

Tibs was convinced. His master still wasn't over the death of his parents. To be sure, their deaths had effected his master far more than Tibs would have thought possible. It had driven his master into insanity.

* * *


	8. In the Elevator

* * *

_Chapter Seven: In the Elevator_

"How long was I gone?"

Tibs halted in picking up the bath towel that his master had just tossed aside, and brought his eyes up to look at the almost-nude man before him. Draco was staring down at him, one of his arms in a shirt, the other still hanging limply by his side, and other than that was sporting nothing else but a pair of briefs. Tibs frowned, "Several hours, Master, and you left during that period."

"Where did I go?"

Tibs stared at his feet, "Tibs doesn't know."

"Do you know what I did?"

Tibs almost wished he wouldn't have to tell him, but he couldn't lie. He stared at his feet, "Tibs thinks that, maybe, master hurt someone."

"Why?"

"Master came back with blood-stains on his clothing."

"Where are they?"

"Master told Tibs to burn them – Tibs did as Master asked." Tibs then chanced looking up at Draco, who had, at some point, finished pulling his shirt on, and had even pulled on a pair of blue jeans.

Draco was staring up at the ceiling, a rather blank expression on his face. "I have to put a stop to this."

Tibs didn't say anything. Instead, he finally finished his action in picking the towel up off the floor, "Tibs will go make master something to eat." When no response came, Tibs went ahead and left the room, wearing that same worried frown.

Draco turned around and looked at his bed before moving over to it and sitting down. The last thing he could remember was…Potter. He remembered trying to eat his breakfast, but the thought of that insufferable golden boy had kept floating through his mind, and so he had finally given up on eating and had…and had…. And that was where it went blank up until five minutes ago when he found himself standing in his bedroom, a shirt half-way on his body. It had taken him a moment to even realize he'd been pulling it on, not off.

However, Draco still remembered one piece of information: he had seen his father in his apartment the day before. Whether or not he was supposed to have remembered that was beyond him, but there it was, in his mind, regardless. Draco knew one thing for certain: he needed to go to Azkaban. He needed to find out if his parents were still there or if they had escaped and the ministry was trying to keep it hush-hush. Or if his father had found some other way to contact him while being within the walls of Azkaban.

Draco stood up and left his bedroom. Out in the hall, he looked into the living room to see that the clock read four in the afternoon. Moving to the door of his flat, Draco slid his bare feet into a pair of loafers. He then turned on spot and – _CRACK_ – disapperated.

His world in focus once more, Draco looked around to make sure he had appearated to the appropriate section of the Magical Ministry. Indeed, he was standing within a circle, exactly as he should be. The wizard on duty, to make sure no one splinched themselves, gave Draco a curt nod that Draco didn't return as he hurriedly set off toward his destination.

---------

Harry was standing in line at the appearation area waiting for his turn when he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Malfoy moving quickly toward the elevators. Harry felt his gut tighten as before his mind's eye a vibrant and quite detailed image of himself lying under Malfoy as the man kissed him unfolded. Harry felt the tips of his ears warm, as well as his cheeks, and he hastily bit down on his own bottom lip, the pain quickly forcing the image out.

"Mr. Potter, are you all right?"

A voice at his elbow made Harry turn, and he smiled at an older witch that he knew to be named Lezbe Tess, and nodded, "I'm quite all right. Thank you, Mrs. Tess."

The witch gave him a kindly, motherly smile, "Of course, Mr. Potter. You just suddenly went red, and then paled quickly. I thought you might be feeling ill."

Harry shook his head, "No. I'm…" he saw Malfoy standing impatiently behind a crowd of witches and wizards that were also waiting on the elevator.

"You're what, Dear?"

Harry stepped out of line, "Yeah – I'm not feeling well. Thanks again, Mrs. Tess."

He heard the witch say something else, but he didn't necessarily catch it as his mind was all ready focused on leading him toward Malfoy's side. As he moved closer, he tried to think of a reason for him to suddenly be standing next to Malfoy, waiting for an elevator, and it took tossing away several very bad ideas before he remembered that he_worked_ for the ministry, and he had every right to be there.

He stopped beside Malfoy, and then proceeded to stare at him out of the corner of his eye. He noticed that Malfoy was dressed in muggle clothing, and had a very harried look about him. His hair was brushed away from his face, but not slicked back, as usual, and the fact that he had come to the ministry dressed as a muggle when he so thoroughly proclaimed to _hate_ everything about them, made Harry's brow raise in curiosity.

He saw Malfoy's head slowly start to move in his direction, and Harry quickly looked in front of him, and slapped a very bored look upon his features as though he hadn't noticed his amazingly gorgeous nemesis standing beside him.

_Wait…what?_

---------

Draco turned his head and felt the corner of his lips tug in an upward direction as his eyes alighted upon Potter. The man was looking determinedly in front of him, his gaze practically burning holes into the back of the witch's head standing in front of him. However, despite how hard he was staring at the witch, and trying very hard to pretend he had not noticed Draco standing next to him was lost because of the simple fact that his cheeks were painted the slightest shade of red.

Draco smiled, but quickly rose a hand to his face and coughed to cover it up. At that moment the witches and wizards before him shuffled forth as an elevator came, but as so many were waiting Draco knew it'd be another two carts before he would finally be entering one himself. Potter managed to stay by his side as the group moved forward, and Draco had to cover another smile with a cough.

It was obvious that Potter was remembering the events of last night. Of course, he would be remembering them as a dream, but the point was – he remembered. Nothing else would have the man standing next to him blushing faintly, and trying so very hard to not notice Draco when any other time he would have been standing as far away as he could away from him. And if, by chance, they were forced to stand next to one another the odds were they would be fighting by now and probably throwing hexes.

As inconspicuously as he could manage, Draco moved to his right, and brushed his arm against Potter's. Potter then jumped so violently that he nearly knocked over the witch in front of him, as well as the wizard standing off to his other side. He couldn't help himself, Draco laughed aloud. He finally turned to look at Potter, who was helping the elderly wizard regain his balance, while muttering apologies. When he was finished, he turned and glared at Draco.

"What the fuck are you doing? Can't you watch where you're going?" Potter's voice hissed at him in a menacing whisper that did not carry over the rest of the chatter being carried on around them.

Draco leaned in until he was so close to Potter that their noses were almost touching, "I only brushed against your arm, Potter. It's not like I ran you over with a truck."

"You pushed me."

Draco noticed the angry gleam in Potter's eye as the man tried to convince himself that Draco had indeed pushed him, and not just brushed against him. Draco shook his head, "No. No, I didn't. But I have to admit, Potter…I find it amusing that you jump so high just from me brushing against you."

Potter blushed.

Draco smiled and then straightened up so quickly that Potter almost fell backwards himself as he tried to look less guilty.

There was a dinging noise in front of them, and the elevator doors slid open for the next crowd of witches and wizards. Now Draco and Potter were next, along with more people behind them, but Draco grinned as an evil little though flitted through his mind.

When the elevator dinged again, Draco let Potter enter the elevator first, and then Draco stepped in. When other witches and wizards moved to enter, Draco held up a hand, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, this car's full."

The witch at the front of the line looked over Draco's shoulder to see just Potter standing there, "There's plenty of room. Move aside."

Draco shook his head, "No. No, I'm sorry. It's quite full."

"Let the damn people in, Malfoy, you git."

Draco turned to look at Potter, one of his hands rising so that one long finger could cover his own lips before he gave a soft, "Shh."

Potter's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, Draco stepped forward until their bodies were almost touching.

Potter froze.

Draco gave a devilish grin.

The doors slid shut, leaving the others outside.

There was a moment of silence as the elevator started to move, and then Potter spoke, "Why didn't you let anyone else in?"

Draco shrugged, "Isn't it obvious?"

Potter reached behind him, and the next thing Draco knew, he could feel a wand tip pressing into his chest. Draco frowned, "Now, now, Potter. I don't plan to try to kill you or anything."

"Then why did you not let anyone else?" Potter's voice was low with anger, but it also held a note of tension that was reflected in the way Potter was holding himself.

Draco took a step back from Potter's wand, and then lifted his own. He gave it a little wave, and then there was a grinding sound before the elevator came to a shuttering halt.

Potter looked around bewilderingly before looking back to Draco, "What did you do?"

"Stopped the elevator."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"What are you on about, Malfoy!? What games are you playing at?"

Draco's chuckle filled the silence of the elevator, "Don't you want your_dream_ to come true, Potter?"

Draco watched as Potter gave a very startled twitch before he shouted, "What are you talking about?"

He was still brandishing his want at Draco, but he paid it no mind as he slowly started to circle Potter, "You know, Potter. Your dream. The one you had last night. The one where I was kissing you."

Potter turned so red that Draco was sure he was about to literally explode. But he didn't. Instead, he swallowed, and then said, in a very thick voice, "I don't know what you're talking about. What sort of insane thoughts are you entertaining in that mind of yours?"

Draco stopped behind Potter and moved up behind him until his chest was pressed to Potter's back. He lowered his head so that his lips were just behind and beside Potter's ear, "It wasn't a dream, you know," he whispered, "It really happened."

Potter's body tensed even more than it all ready was, and Draco smiled. He lifted a hand and then, starting at Potter's shoulder, ran it down the length of Potter's arm until his hand was wrapped around Potter's hand which was still clasping the wand, pointing it at nothing in particular in front of him.

"Why don't you put that thing away, Harry?"

There was a moment of nothing, and then Potter's arm lowered, went behind him to slide the wand back into his back pocket, and then fell to his side. "What are you doing, Malfoy?"

And a slight moan escaped Draco as he realized that Harry's voice had lowered to a husky whisper, and the man was doing nothing to fight against Draco's touches. Draco wrapped his hand around Harry's hand again, "I told you all ready: isn't it obvious?"

---------

Harry's head fell back on Malfoy's shoulder. He didn't know why he wasn't fighting to keep the other man away. He didn't know why he had put his wand away at Malfoy's suggestion. And he certainly didn't know why he wanted, more than anything, to turn around, and be embraced by his nemesis.

Harry's stomach had that tight, fluttering sensation again, and he was finding it so very hard to breathe with Malfoy's head radiating against him. When Malfoy had given a small moan, Harry had bit into his own bottom lip. He was trying so very hard to fight the passion that was flaring up inside of him, but that minor noise from Malfoy, quickly followed by the man's rasping whisper next to his ear, all but undid him.

Harry had his eyes closed, but he could feel Malfoy staring down into his face, could feel as the man leaned closer to his face, and Harry's breath caught in his throat.

"What are you thinking, Harry?"

Malfoy's warm breath danced over Harry's check, and Harry smelled the scent of peppermint before he opened his mouth to ask, "What did you mean…it wasn't really a dream?"

Malfoy's answer was slow in coming, but when it did come it was in a very seductively hot voice that made Harry involuntarily shiver, "I think…it would be best…if you just found out…what I mean….don't you, Harry?"

Harry wasn't in the slightest bit used to having his name spoken by his nemesis, much less in such a fiery voice, and Harry's knees started to shake, "What are you doing to me? What spell did you cast?"

Malfoy chuckled above him, "No spell, Harry. You just want me. All by yourself."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Malfoy cut him off.

"Don't deny it," Harry felt Malfoy's hand leave his to move to his chest where it then slid down until it moved over the hard length concealed in Harry's pants, "See?"

Harry let out a hiss of air at the touch, "Fuck you, Malfoy. You did something to me. I can't even move."

Malfoy's laughter echoed around him yet again, "That's no spell, Harry. That's just desire."

"Liar."

"Here, let me prove it then."

And before Harry knew what was going on, Malfoy had turned him around, shoved him backwards until his back was against the grate of the elevator doors, and then pressed his lips against Harry's.

Harry's eyes were wide, the emerald color shining with a desire he did _not_ want to be there, but could not help feeling. Where the fuck had all of these emotions come from in the first place? After all of the horrible things Malfoy had done to Ron, Hermione, countless others, and even himself in the past – how could he feel such profound longing for the man? He didn't want to feel it. He wanted it to_stop_.

Malfoy nipped at Harry's bottom lip, and then looked up and into Harry's eyes, "Why aren't you kissing me back?"

Harry steeled his voice, denied everything else happening within him, "Because I fucking hate you, Malfoy."

Malfoy continued to look at Harry before he sneered and gave Harry a violent shove that made Harry bounce against the grate, "Deny it then. But your body speaks for you. And your eyes, Harry. Your eyes give you away."

"What the fuck is with you? Why are you doing this?" Harry hissed.

Malfoy glared at Harry, and then he smirked before taking several steps away until he was standing in the middle of the elevator, "Just having a bit of fun, Potter."

Harry glared at Malfoy, "Let me the hell out of this elevator."

"I can't. It's stopped, remember?"

"You're the one that stopped it! Get it moving again."

Malfoy didn't respond, but a second later, the elevator made a loud grinding sound, and then started to move once more. When it came to its first stop, Harry gave Malfoy one last heated glare before moving to the far side of the elevator. His first instinct had been to immediately leave the elevator, but then it had occurred to him that he might as well just go back to the auror office rather than fleeing out of the elevator at the first stop. He didn't want Malfoy to know the man had had an effect on him, after all.

As he stood there, as the elevator filled up with other witches and wizards, filling the gap between Harry and Malfoy, he did not admit to himself that he had truly wanted to delve into the forbidden desires he was experiencing. He did not allow himself to think of anything at all except the different colored robes that were being worn all around him.

-------

Draco watched Potter disappear as the elevator filled up. He considered, for a moment, before the grates shut and the option was closed off, of forcing everyone out, executing an obliviate charm on Potter, and then going on as though nothing had happened. Once the elevator was moving though, Draco was glad that he hadn't chosen that option. He wanted Potter to remember this little event in the elevator. That, coupled with the dream, would eventually have Potter coming back to him. And Draco didn't even stop to think on _why_ he would want Potter to come back to him, because he just didn't think he could handle that information with everything else that was going on.

The elevator came to his floor, and Draco stepped out. He moved to the desk and rapped on it to get the witch's attention that was sitting behind it. She looked up from magically painting her fingernails with her wand, a rather bored expression on her face. When she saw Draco standing there though, her eyes lit up, and she grinned rather broadly, "Mr. Malfoy, hello. I was wondering if you'd be by to see me again. Though, I must admit, I _am_ surprised. It's been so long, after all."

Draco looked at the pretty witch, and gave her a heart-stopping smile, "Miss. Lacey, I do believe you are the cure to an aching heart."

The witch blushed, "Mr. Malfoy – you devil." She then giggled, and Draco's eye gave a sort of twitch at the squeaky sound. Flourishing her hand, as though waving away a bad smell, she said, "You are just too much, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco continued to smile at her, "Only because you say so, Miss. Lacey."

Lacey giggled again, and then shook her head, "So, what brings you to the Azkaban Office this evening?"

Draco straightened up, "I need to procure a traveling pass to Azkaban, of course."

Lacey gave Draco a rather blank look, "Why do you need to go to Azkaban, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco's brow rose, "To see my parents."

"Mr. Malfoy," Lacey's features had become rather tight and worried now, "Your parents died six and a half months ago."

Draco shook his head, "Nonsense. I just saw them last week. Remember? I was here a week ago asking for a traveling pass?"

Lacey shook her head, "No. You were here six and a half months ago, asking for a pass, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco swallowed, "No…but…" He felt the blood drain from his face, and he suddenly felt weak.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you all right?"

He didn't answer. He was staring blankly ahead of him.

"Mr. Malfoy? _Mr. Malfoy_?"

Draco's vision danced in front of him, and then went completely black at the same time his knees lost their strength to hold him up. Draco sunk to the floor, but before he could hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around him.

The witch stared blankly at the man levitating just above the floor. A second later, a voice sounded, and then Harry Potter was seen kneeling there, Draco in his arms.

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry looked up, a worried expression on his face, that was mirrored in his voice, "Lacey, call for a mediwizard."

* * *


	9. They're Dead?

* * *

_Chapter Eight: They're Dead?_

Harry didn't know what had propelled him to follow Malfoy out of the elevator. He just had a…hunch, he supposed. He thought, somewhere in the back of his mind, that if he followed Malfoy then he would find out something important.

But he hadn't – not really, anyway. He had all ready known that Malfoy's parents had died. The only thing that had seemed particularly useful was that Malfoy had been surprised by this information – as though he had been unaware himself. But, that was impossible. Harry was sure that that was why Malfoy had returned to England in the first place seven months ago.

Standing up from the chair he had been occupying, Harry wandered over to the giant windows, that lined an entire wall, to gaze down into the streets of London. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was in such massively deep thought that, at first, he didn't hear his name being whispered behind him. However, the sound eventually forced him out of his thoughts and he looked down to see a house-elf standing next to him. When Harry finally noticed him, the elf bowed low before straightening and gazing up at Harry in a way that remind Harry, bitter sweetly, of Dobby.

Dobby had once been one of Harry's, for lack of a better word, friends. Dobby had even died to save Harry's life. Dobby had also been the Malfoy family's house-elf. What Harry remembered of Dobby, during that particular time, was a scrawny little thing in, what appeared to be, a monumentally filthy pillowcase that had been tied in certain areas to act as clothing. The house-elf that stood before him now, however, was completely different. Though he wore nothing fancy, he wasn't in just a pillowcase either. He was immaculately clean, somewhat chubby as though he had more than enough to eat, and he was wearing a pair of brown cotton breeches and an olive green, long-sleeved shirt. Harry couldn't help but lift a brow. He honestly didn't think he'd ever seen such a well-taken care of house-elf.

"May I help you?" Harry asked, his voice a mixture of courtesy and curiosity.

"Hello, Mr. Harry Potter, Sir. I am Tibs," and the elf bowed low again.

Harry nodded, "It's nice to meet you, Tibs. You must be Malfoy's house-elf."

"With pleasure, Mr. Harry Potter, Sir."

"Please, just Harry will do."

The house-elf bowed low again, and Harry couldn't help the slightest smirk appearing on his lips. "Harry Potter honors Tibs. Tibs is most happy."

Harry had to raise a closed fist to his lips, where he coughed behind it to hide the laughter welling up inside of him.

"Tibs wanted to thank Harry Potter for bringing home Tibs' Master. Tibs was most worried when Master left the house."

Harry immediately snapped to rapt attention, "Why were you worried, Tibs?"

Tibs looked nervously to the large bed set in the middle of the room, before looking back to Harry, "Well, Master has been acting…acting…"

"Tibs," the faintest voice rose from the direction of the bed and both Tibs and Harry looked over to see Draco Malfoy staring up at the ceiling. The wizard and the elf both moved closer to the bed, and Malfoy turned to glare at Harry while sneering, "What are you doing here, Potter?"

Harry shifted his weight. He didn't know what to answer. He still wasn't for sure why he had volunteered to take Malfoy home, much less stay once he had gotten him there. Once again, he was lead here on a hunch, but he couldn't tell Malfoy that. And then again, his eyes scanned the perfect profile of Malfoy's face, and Harry wondered to himself if he was here for more reasons than he realized?

"I asked you a question, Potter – or are you deaf?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, and he glared down at Malfoy, "You passed out in the Azkaban office, I somehow got volunteered to bring you home," he lied.

Malfoy continued to glare at him before flicking his silver eyes to Tibs, "I think you should go find something to do before you end up deserving clothes."

Tibs' eyes widened, and after a quick bow and a squeak, he practically ran from the room.

Harry turned, "I should be leaving as well," and he was halfway into his decision to disapperate when a hand stopped him. Harry looked down to see long fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist. He followed the length of the arm up to the shoulder, and then eventually the face of Malfoy, "What?"

Malfoy seemed to struggle with an inner battle before he finally rasped, "Did you know they were dead?"

"Your parents?" And at Malfoy's nod, Harry continued, "Yes. I did. I was there when it happened. It was rather…odd. It makes it unforgettable."

Malfoy sat up in his bed, his grip still tight on Harry's wrist, as he eyed him inquisitively, "What do you mean _odd_?"

Harry blinked, "You really don't remember?"

"Why the fuck would I ask you to tell me if I remembered, Potter?"

Harry couldn't help but feel slightly taken aback by Malfoy's sudden rage, but he quickly cast his surprise aside, as he spoke, "Look, I don't know if I should tell you. Why don't you just have Tibs tell you? Or you could go back to the mini-"

"_Just fucking tell me, Harry_."

And there was such a pleading note in his voice mixed with agony and frustration, that Harry did as he was told, "Seven months ago, the auror department was alerted that several Death Eaters had somehow escaped Azkaban. A manhunt was immediately executed, and within two weeks, the Death Eaters that had escaped were once more imprisoned or had been killed while fighting against an auror. However, your parents, having escaped also, didn't try to hide or fight us off when we came for them. Instead, they said they had been dragged out of Azkaban with a couple of other Death Eaters. When asked why they hadn't come back on their own, they said it was because they were planning to go to America to see you."

Harry's eyes moved away from Malfoy's face, and down to the fingers still wrapped around his wrist, though the fingers had a rather weak grip on him compared to before. Harry cleared his throat and continued, "Of course, we told them that that was unacceptable, and so we took them back into custody. Again, they didn't struggle or try to fight us. Until we stepped outside of the manor."

"Home?"

"Yes. Your old home."

Malfoy nodded, but didn't look up at Harry.

"When we went outside, your parents just…they just went berserk. We hadn't cuffed them or anything because they weren't struggling to go, and suddenly, there were spells being thrown everywhere. We had, of course, disarmed them, but we both know that the most elite of Voldemort's followers didn't need a wand to have devastating effects on another person. Two aurors were wounded, and one was nearly killed before we managed to get them under control. But the whole time they were screaming. They were screaming that Voldemort was back, and they were screaming that he was coming for you, and then…they just sort of froze, and then…they died."

Harry stood quite still, breathing in deeply as he remembered that night. It had been completely madcap, the way things had gone down, and even further, their wild ranting about Voldemort. Of course, Harry had checked into their Voldemort-is-back proclamations – the entire department of auror's had dropped what they were doing, went out, and looked into it – but nothing had ever been found.

Until the muggle homicides. Muggles that were really squibs. And Harry looked at Malfoy and frowned deeply.

"Did I see them before they died?"

Harry shook his head, "No."

"Why did that witch say I was there six and a half months ago, asking for a pass to Azkaban then? Why did I recognize her? Why did I think I had been there the previous week? Why did I think I'd seen my parents a week before? Why, Harry, why?"

Harry sighed, and because he generally was a good person, and his hero complex was taking over, he reached out with his hand and placed it over Malfoy's that was still gripping limply to his wrist. He then sat down on the edge of the bed, "Draco?"

The man turned his eyes to look at Harry, eyes that were filled with fear, confusion, and unshed tears.

"When you traveled back here, to London, you missed the owl that was sent to you, to tell you of your parent's death. You showed up in the ministry three days after they had died, asking for the pass. When you were told about your parents demise, you left without another word. After that day, barely anyone has seen you – you locked yourself up in the manor for awhile, and then you moved here." Harry pulled in a deep breath. He couldn't believe he was actually feeling sorry for Draco Malfoy. But, then again, Harry was feeling a lot of things for Malfoy lately that he couldn't believe.

"Why did I think I'd seen them last week?"

Harry opened his mouth to tell Malfoy what he thought to be the truth, but then, at the very last second, he said only, "I don't know."

Silence filled the room. Neither Harry nor Malfoy spoke. Harry watched out the windows of Malfoy's bedroom as the sun finally disappeared under the horizon, and the moon steadily began to rise higher and higher into the sky. He thought to himself many things as the time ticked by – seconds into minutes, minutes into an hour, and then more – and none of the things he thought brought any relief to him as to why he was _still_ sitting on Malfoy's bed, holding the man's hand, with no light in the room other than that moon and the twinkling lights of London shining in from outside.

"Why are you here, Harry?"

The voice was soft and in such a faint whisper that Harry almost didn't hear it. He looked away from the window and to Malfoy who was silhouetted against the dim light, and didn't say anything.

Malfoy began to lean forward, "Why are you here? Harry?"

Harry swallowed, and still didn't answer. He felt like his voice had completely abandoned him, just as the breath in his body was trying to do.

Malfoy leaned in closer and closer until Harry could feel the other mans cheek gently graze against his own, as Malfoy's lips moved next to Harry's ear, "Harry?"

Harry felt the hot rush of breath move across his ear, and his breath finally abandoned him. However, he still managed to rasp, "What?"

He felt Malfoy's free hand rest on the opposite shoulder that he was leaning over, and then move up the side of Harry's neck, before it disappeared into the thickness of Harry's hair. "Harry?" And Malfoy's voice sent chills of pleasure screaming down his spine.

Harry opened his mouth and a small, guttural moan elicited unwillingly from his lips.

He heard Malfoy chuckle, "Do you want me, Harry?"

Another small sound from Harry. He didn't seem to be able to manage much more. His body literally felt frozen. He felt exactly as he had in the elevator when Malfoy had been moving in on him then. And Harry had told himself in that elevator that Malfoy had cast some sort of spell or done something else to him, but he knew now that he had been lying to himself.

It_was_ true, however, that Malfoy was doing something to Harry. And the _something_ was making Harry light-headed and delirious. He wanted to reach up and grab Malfoy, force him back into his silver sheets and pillows, and then he wanted to…then he wanted to…he wanted to…wanted to…wanted…wanted….

Harry wrenched himself away from Malfoy with an intense growl before standing up next to the bed. Malfoy, so startled by the movement, toppled sideways. Sitting up, he laughed merrily, "How long are you going to deny it, Harry?"

Harry reached up and smoothed down his robes, "I don't know what you're talking about," but his voice wasn't necessarily convincing as it was both shaky and husky.

Malfoy slid out of his bed, almost serpentine like, and reached out for Harry. Harry quickly took several steps backward, out of the other man's reach. Malfoy laughed lightly, "What if I promise not to tell anyone?"

Harry shook his head, "Just stay away from me, Malfoy."

"Come on now, Harry," Malfoy started to move forward, and Harry, in a panic, turned in spot, and – _CRACK_ – disapperated.

---------

Because there hadn't been much thought behind that apperation, Harry was lucky that he only left the tip of his shoe behind, and not his entire foot. He looked down at his feet, and saw his big toe sticking through the end of his right shoe. Reaching down, trying hard to ignore his shaking hands, he untied the laces of his loafers, and then kicked them off to one side of the hall before fleeing to his bathroom.

When he emerged twenty minutes later, his lips were a slight tinge of blue, and he was still shivering. He hadn't even bothered to turn on the hot water with that one. He needed to cool down, and fast. He wondered to himself, as he dried his hair, whether or not there was a spell he could cast or a potion he could drink that would make his mind and body stop their seemingly incessant need for Malfoy.

He had all but the last digit dialed into Ron and Hermione's flat, when he hung up the phone. Calling Hermione, thinking she might know of something, wasn't very reasonable after all. It would only lead to a million questions from both of his best friends that Harry had no intention of answering. He thought he'd rather be crucioed until he ceased to breathe before telling Hermione, much less Ron, that he was extraordinarily attracted to Draco Malfoy, and that he wanted to touch him and kiss him and make the silver-eyed, blond-haired man scream out his-

_Whoa, whoa, whoa – stop right fucking there! Bloody hell, Harry._

Harry ran his hand through his hair as he sat down on his living room sofa. He needed to do something about this. He couldn't live his life like this. He refused to. He picked up the phone and dialed another number. He waited on pins and needles as the phone rang and rang and rang, and then, finally, a rather distant, far-away voice said, "Hello?"

Harry rested his elbows on his knees, as he croaked, "Luna? Thank God. I need your help."

* * *


	10. Save the Serpent and the Grader

* * *

_Chapter Nine: Save the Serpent and the Grader_

"I think Hermione Granger should do for the next. It's time we stop playing with small game like squibs, and move onto bigger meat. Don't you agree, Draco?"

Draco looked up from the tip of the shoe he was studying in the palm of his hand to see his father standing in his bedroom doorway. Draco narrowed his eyes and stood up, "You're not really my father. I remember now. You and mother died almost seven months ago."

"Nonsense, Boy. We just wanted people to think that," Lucius stepped farther into the room, and Draco noticed this time his father looked the way he once had: regal and aristocratic. He even had his serpent-headed cane in his hand. His hair hung thick and long down his back, his flesh had taken on that ethereal glow once more, and his features were relaxed, and youthful.

Draco took a step back, "No. I don't know who you are, but you aren't my father."

Lucius gave his son a sinister smile, "Honestly, Draco. Did all of that time in the states turn you into a buffoon?"

Draco swallowed. Though he knew the man before him couldn't possibly be his father – if Harry Potter was to be believed – the man was doing a damn awful good job of it.

Taking his son's silence as acquiescence, Lucius asked, "Now, did you hear what I said?"

Draco found himself nodding, despite himself.

"Granger then. And…try not to be so messy this time."

Draco nodded again, but this time, he was completely aware. He knew what his_father_ was telling him to do, and he also had confirmation that he was the one behind all of those homicides Potter had accused him of the day before.

God, how had his life gotten turned so upside down in just over thirty-six hours?

"You just sent me out earlier," Draco spouted, trying to buy himself some time. He needed to stop himself. He didn't like Granger – true, he hated the bloody mudblood – but he didn't want to kill her.

Lucius shrugged, "Yes. I did. Because it was the right time for you to go. Now is the right time for Granger. She's alone."

Draco stepped forward, forgetting his fear, "Why are you doing this to me? Who are you?"

A glimmer of something that can only be described as the very epitome of evil flashed across Lucius' features, before he gave Draco a winning smile, "Granger. Now."

Draco nodded again and felt his feet ushering him forward, "No. No, I don't want to." But, despite what his mouth said, and his brain thought, his feet kept on moving.

---------

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat when Ron appearated right in front of him, "Bloody hell, Ron! What the fuck?"

Ron didn't even apologize, instead he reached down and grabbed Harry's wand off the table, and then extended it to Harry, "Here. Let's go. Now."

Harry stood up from the couch and took his wand, "Go? I can't go anywhere. I'm waiting on someone."

"To hell with waiting on someone. We go. Now. There's been another murder. Another one of your squib's."

"Shit. Hold on, let me get my shoes." Harry went into the hall and had his foot shoved into his loafer when he realized there was a hole in it. Cursing violently under his breath he turned, and headed into his bedroom to dig into his closet for another pair.

He could hear Ron talking from the living room, "She was found an hour ago by a neighbor. The report is that it's a bloody mess over there – her apartment trashed, blood all over the place, the poor woman blown to tiny fucking bites. It's absolutely atrocious."

Harry stepped out of the closet and moved to his bed where he sat down and started pulling his shoes on. He called out to Ron, "Why are you here though?"

"The ministry said this case is getting out of hand, especially with the latest homicide. They wanted you to have a partner, so they sent me an owl, telling me to come get you on my way to the crime scene. Right bad fucking time too. Hermione and I were in the middle of-"

But Harry didn't hear what Ron said after that because he was too surprised by the sudden cracking noise behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Tibs standing on his bed. The house-elf wasted no time on formalities; instead, he rushed forward at Harry, grabbing onto his shoulders, "Harry Potter must save Tibs Master. Harry Potter must go now. Master is going to do it again."

The house-elf had a wild look in his eyes and Harry stood up, "What? What's Malfoy going to do?"

The house-elf's lips curled inwards for a moment before suddenly exploding open as Tibs yelled, "Kill a grader!"

"A grader? What the hell is a grader?" Harry asked, his eyes just as wide as the elf's now.

"Tibs doesn't know! But Harry Potter must go save Tibs' master, and the grader!"

"I don't understand, Tibs. Wait-" Harry frowned, because he had been hoping it wasn't true – even though he hated the fact that he had been hoping that – "Are you saying that Malfoy is the one behind all of those murders?"

Tibs' eyes welled up with tears, and Harry didn't know if it was because the house-elf was scared for Draco Malfoy, himself, or because of the pain he was causing himself by biting so hard into his bottom lip that blood dribbled down his chin. Regardless, the elf nodded frantically at Harry.

Harry cursed again violently.

"Harry! What the hell are you doing? We have to – who the hell is that?"

Harry turned to see Ron standing in the doorway, "Do you know what a grader is?"

Ron looked blankly at Harry, "What? A grader? Are you trying to tell me that house-elf is a grader?"

Harry shook his head and gave Ron a very exasperated look, "No. This is Tibs. He's Malfoy's house-elf."

"Malfoy's - …why the bloody hell is Malfoy's house-elf in your flat?"

"Because…" Harry almost told Ron why. He almost told Ron that it was because Malfoy was the one committing the murders, but he bit his own tongue, and shook his head instead, "He was delivering a message. And I have to go."

"You have to go…because Malfoy's house-elf…delivers you a message?" Ron looked bewilderingly at Harry, "What the hell is going on, mate?"

"I can't tell you. I have to go." Harry finished pulling on his other shoe and then stood up.

Tibs, still standing on the bed, was smiling through the tears streaming down his face, "Thank you, Harry Potter, Sir. Thank you so much. Tibs will be forever in your debt. Forever."

Ron looked from Harry to Tibs and then back to Harry, "What the hell, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, "I can't. I have to go. You go onto the scene without me. Tell them…tell them you couldn't find me."

Ron took a few steps into Harry's bedroom, a very worried look pulling at his handsome features. His voice was low when he spoke, "Mate…what's going on?"

Harry only shook his head once more, "I have to go. I have to go find…a grader."

And then there were two _CRACK'S_ and both the house-elf and Harry were gone, leaving Ron so confused he felt dizzy.

-----------

Draco reached up and grabbed onto the door frame of the hallway entrance his feet was trying to lead him down. As his feet kept moving, and he didn't want to, Draco tripped and fell flat on his face. Before he could start walking again, he sat up, grabbed his legs, and crossed them in a meditation-style. For a moment, it was as though it had worked, and then Draco found himself on his feet once more, walking down the hall.

"Shit. Shit. No. No. Stop. Stop. _Stop_!" But on he went, and he knew he was being pulled to the door at the end of the hall.

Draco did some fast thinking then, and started yelling, "GRANGER!! GRANGER!!"

As though only a split second passed, though it was probably more, the door at the end of the hall was flung open, and Hermione Granger, bushy hair and all, was seen standing there. She looked down the hallway to Draco moving toward her, and raised a brow, "Malfoy? What are you doing?"

"Go get Harry!" Draco yelled as he clung to another doorframe that he was passing as his feet ran out from under him. He crashed down on his ass to the floor.

Hermione stepped out into the hallway, giving Draco a look that declared her mistrust of him loudly.

"Look, Granger, just do what I say, all right? That is, if you'd rather live than die?"

Hermione whipped her wand out from her back pocket and aimed it at Draco, "What are you up to, Draco?"

"Oh, bloody hell, Granger! Just do what I fucking say!!" Draco bellowed at her. The door frame he was clinging to was then suddenly filled by another person as the door opened.

An overweight, balding man looked down at Draco on the floor and then to Hermione, who had quickly hidden her wand, "Is everything all right out here?"

Hermione nodded, "Yes. Fine, thank you. He just fell, is all."

The man looked between the pair again, and then down to Draco, "You need a hand getting up?"

Draco glared at the man, "Get your fat muggle ass back inside your flat and leave me the fuck alone!"

Hermione gave a nervous giggle as she rushed forward toward Draco, "Sorry – he's really drunk. He gets angry when he's wasted."

The man narrowed his eyes at Draco, his cheeks red with embarrassment. He then looked to Hermione again, "You want me to call the cops?"

Hermione shook her head, "No. No thank you. Please, don't let us bother you anymore."

The man looked between the pair once more, and then, with a little nod of his head, pulled back into his flat, and shut the door.

Hermione immediately withdrew her wand, "Muffliato," she then turned her enraged gaze back to Draco, "What are you _doing_ here, Malfoy?"

Draco had regained his feet, but was still clinging to the doorway. Hermione eyed him uneasily, taking a couple of steps backward. Draco gave her a pleading look that was so out of character she half lowered her wand, "Please, Granger. Just get Harry for me. Please?"

Hermione rose a brow, "How do I know you won't hurt him?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? It's not like he's a goddamn half-wit, Granger! He can defend himself if he wants to!"

Hermione actually jumped at Draco's outraged roar. She then was in mid-step, turning away from him to go do as he asked, when there was a loud_CRACK _and Harry was standing a few feet behind Draco.

He was staring at Hermione so determinedly, however, he didn't even notice Draco off to his right, "Hermione! I need to know what a grader could be!"

"Harry!" both Hermione and Draco cried at the same time and Harry looked to Draco bewilderingly.

A myriad of expressions passed over Harry's face then, before he mumbled, "Grader? Grader…grad…er…._GRANGER_!!" Harry screamed at the end.

Hermione jumped and wore such a wide-eyed look she reminded Harry strongly of Tibs as he turned to look to her, and then back to Draco. His face was red, and Hermione could see utter fury in his emerald eyes as he pulled his wand and directed it at Draco, "You were going to-"

"I told her to call for you! I don't _want_ to, Potter! I'm _trying _to stop myself, but I must be…under…a curse!" And his nails grasped for the frame, but his feet had him in a full-out run toward Hermione, that Harry stepped in front of.

Harry caught him in his arms, and Draco unhesitatingly wrapped his arms tightly around Harry, and then bent slightly to bury his face in the other man's neck so he couldn't see Granger standing just behind Harry, and before himself.

"Harry," came Hermione's cautious voice, "What in the world is going on?"

Harry didn't turn around to look at Hermione. Instead, he wrapped his arms even more tightly around Draco, who was still clinging to Harry as though he were his lifeline.

"Harry?" came Hermione's voice again. "Harry, please. Tell me what's going on. Why aren't you with Ron? Why are you here? What's _he_ doing here?"

"_Don't_."

Hermione's brow lifted at the dangerous undertone that Harry's voice carried with that one simple word. She swallowed, worry for her friend overwhelming her to the point where she had tears shining in her eyes, "Don't? Don't what, Harry?"

"Don't…say 'he' like that," Harry answered, his voice softer.

Hermione watched as one of Harry's hands rose to rest on the back of Draco's head, almost as though comforting him, and Hermione was convinced then that Harry must be under some sort of spell, "Harry! I don't know what spell or curse-"

Harry shook his head, "No curse. No spell," he looked over his shoulder to Hermione, "But Ron and you always did know me best."

Hermione gave Harry a very confused look. Her best friend, the only other person she cared about as much as she cared for Ron, gave her a small smile, and then – _CRACK! _– he was gone, and so was Draco.

Hermione bit into her bottom lip as a tear slid down her cheek, "Harry?" she said into the silence of the hall.

* * *


	11. Letting It Go

* * *

_Chapter Ten: Letting It Go_

They're feet on solid ground, neither man moved. Harry still had one hand resting on the back of Draco's head, the other was holding him around the shoulders, and Draco's arms were still wrapped tightly around Harry's waist, with his face still buried in the slightly shorter man's neck. Harry breathed in deeply, trying to keep his mind empty of all thought, lest he find himself having to move from this position. At the moment, he was more than happy being like this, and he didn't want to admit to it.

It was the sound of shuffling feet that made Harry finally pull away from Draco and turn around. He was greeted by a very low bow, and when the house-elf straightened himself, Harry gave Kreacher a small smile, "Hello again, Kreacher. It's been a while."

"Harry Potter, Sir, Kreacher is pleased to see you again," Kreacher then looked over Harry's shoulder to gaze curiously at the other man standing there.

Harry took a step aside so Draco could be brought more fully into view, before he introduced, "This is Mal- er…Draco Malfoy, Kreacher."

Kreacher gave another low bow, so much so that his squashed nose nearly touched the ground, and the ends of his droopy ears actually did, as he said, "Kreacher is most honored to meet Draco Malfoy."

"Good," came Draco's cool, authoritarian drawl, "then why don't you go make us some tea?"

Kreacher straightened, a gleam of something akin to humor crossing his face, before he put on a stoic mask. "Kreacher may be honored, but Draco Malfoy is _not_ Kreacher's master." Kreacher's big eyes then turned to look at Harry. "Would _Master_ like for Kreacher to prepare tea?"

Harry smirked at the exchange between Draco and Kreacher, and Kreacher's response, before he nodded his head, and answered, "Please, Kreacher. If it wouldn't be so much trouble."

Kreacher bowed again, "Kreacher would be pleased to make Master and his…_acquaintance_…something to drink." The house-elf then straightened, turned, and moved up the hall to the kitchen.

Harry saw Draco look over at him out of the corner of his eye, and he turned to meet the silver-gray eyes, "What?"

"Why are you so damn nice to a house-elf? I never understood you, Potter, and the way you treat those that are lesser than you as though they are equals." Draco had a very puzzled look about him, but at the same time, there was something _else_ shining in his eyes, and if Harry was so daring (or stupid, depending on the way you wanted to look at it), he would go so far as to say it was respect.

Harry frowned at Draco, "And I never understood why you think you're better than everyone else, when you're not."

"Oh ho, Potter," sneered Draco as he crossed his arms over his chest, "And _who_, pray tell, is better than I?"

Harry lifted a brow, "You're joking, right?"

Draco only continued to stare at Harry, seemingly waiting for a response.

Harry chuckled, "This is ridiculous. There are _lots_ of people better than you are, Malfoy."

"Like?"

"Like…like Hermione, for one!"

"That mudblood? You can't be seri-" but Draco never finished his sentence, because Harry punched him so hard in the face that he was knocked backwards into the wall, where he promptly slid down it to the floor.

Harry didn't say anything; he didn't feel he had to. He just stood above Draco, looking down on him with unyielding hatred burning in his eyes.

Draco reached up and wiped his finger along his lip, and then held it up. Blood stained the tip of his finger, and he chuckled derisively, before he looked up at Harry, "Well, at least it wasn't a slug-vomiting charm."

"Haven't forgotten then, I take it?" Harry growled.

Draco pushed himself back to his feet. It was then that he noticed his feet were doing what he told them to do, and not doing as they wished. Lapping at the blood flowing freely from his lip, he looked down, and then back up to Harry, "Why aren't I still trying to kill her?"

Harry continued to glare at Draco hatefully for another minute before he finally understood what Draco had just asked him. Harry shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. Maybe the spells and wards on Grimmauld Place is keeping you under control."

"Grimmauld Place, Potter?"

"That's where we're at. This was Sirius' family home, but he left it to me when he died."

"Order of the Phoenix Headquarters?"

Harry nodded.

There was silence for a minute or two, and then, "Why do you think they said Voldemort was back? Is he?"

Harry noted the slight inflection of fear in Draco's voice, and all of the anger he was feeling toward the other man vanished. Harry shook his head, "No. He's not back. Every auror in the department looked into what they said – not one trace of Voldemort was seen or heard of. I think that maybe…you know…that they were…."

"Driven insane by being locked inside of Azkaban for so long?" Draco finished sadly.

Harry nodded, but he didn't say anything. Again, he found himself being courteous of the way Draco was feeling, and some of the vanished anger re-emerged. He didn't want to feel damned compassion for Draco, much less any other emotion that was _not _in the negative category, but Harry's emotions had a mind of their own, and his lack of control over them was absolutely infuriating him.

"Master does not wish to sit in the sitting room? Or perhaps he would prefer the kitchen?"

Harry turned at the sound of Kreacher's voice. The house-elf was carrying a tray on which sat two cups filled with steaming hot tea. Harry shook his head, "No. I mean, of course I plan on sitting. I just hadn't got around to it yet. We'll go into the sitting room."

Kreacher nodded, "Of course, Master."

Harry followed Kreacher, and Draco followed Harry into the sitting room, which, Harry wasn't surprised to see, was immaculately clean. Once, Grimmauld Place had been an utter disaster of filth and mess, but after the death of Sirius and then Kreacher and Harry's unspoken truce, Kreacher had resumed his house-elf duties flawlessly.

There was also a fire burning high in the fireplace, knocking the chill out of the air, and as Harry took a chair in front of the fire, he couldn't help but sigh almost contently. Draco sat in the chair next to the table that sat between the chairs on which Kreacher placed the tray. Kreacher then looked to Harry, "Would Master like anything else?"

Harry shook his head, and Kreacher gave another bow before taking it upon himself to leave the room. Harry then reached over and picked up his cup of tea, bringing it up and over to sip at as he stared into the dancing flames.

Draco also reached out and took his tea, but he didn't stare into the flames. Instead, while the light transfixed Harry, Harry transfixed Draco. The orange glow coming from the fire danced across Harry's features, casting shadows that, if anything, seemed to enhance Harry's all ready handsome qualities to damn near stunning.

Time slowly passed the two men, and neither seemed to have a desire for conversation. Indeed, it was almost as though they were both thinking nothing at all. But, things are not always as they seem.

Draco came out of a particularly vivid daydream that consisted of images of he and Harry – which now had him sweating slightly – with a small gasp. Harry turned and looked at Draco, a brow raised, but Draco had all ready quickly turned and was now staring into the flames.

And suddenly the roles were reversed. As Draco sipped at his tea, watching fire dance, Harry stared at Draco. He had an overwhelming desire to reach out and graze his fingers across Draco's cheek, over his lips, the bottom of which was swollen, but no longer bleeding; and now, suddenly, Harry felt horrendously guilty for having punched Draco.

"I'm sorry."

Draco looked over at Harry, "What?"

Harry felt his cheeks redden. He hadn't meant to apologize. Just because he felt guilty didn't mean he'd done something wrong. Damned mind doing what it pleased again! Harry shook his head, hoping that Draco really hadn't heard him.

But he had, "You're sorry for what?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Nothing. Never mind." Raising his cup, he took a small sip of tea.

"You must be sorry for something, Potter. Otherwise, why the bloody hell did you say you were?"

Harry looked back over at Draco. There was annoyance written all over Draco's face, and Harry smiled.

"What's so damn funny?"

And Draco's irate voice made Harry laugh.

Draco stared at Harry incredulously, and then shot to his feet, "You're a right foul git, Potter!" He then slammed his cup down so hard on the table that it shattered.

Harry stopped laughing.

Draco froze.

Silence.

Stillness.

"I'm sorry I punched you," came Harry's voice, finally.

Draco released his hold on the top of the cup, letting it fall to the table with the rest of the broken pieces. He mentally chewed over his thoughts before he replied, "No. It's fine. I deserved it." He then sank back down into the chair.

Harry couldn't help himself – he said, in complete disbelief, "I'm sorry, did you just say you _deserved_ it?"

Draco frowned at Harry, his brows narrowed, "Yes, Potter. That's what I said. I think you_ are_ deaf."

"Sorry?" Harry asked, as though he hadn't heard Draco.

And then the room was filled with laughter.

And Harry thought to himself that there was something so amazingly right with the current scenario that it was almost hard to believe he'd ever hated Draco.

And Draco thought to himself that he had never really laughed before this moment, and he never, ever wanted it to stop.

When the laughter had subsided, and both men were trying to regain their breath, and ease the pain in their sides, Draco asked, "What are we doing, Harry?"

Harry looked up at Draco, a grin on his face. He thought for a minute, and then said, nothing but utter honesty in his voice, "Letting it go, Draco. Letting it go."

* * *


	12. A Wizard's Duel

* * *

_Chapter Eleven: A Wizard's Duel_

Two weeks passed. The murders of the squibs halted, and Harry, at work, pretended to be no closer to discovering the murderer than he had been at the beginning of the case. He supposed, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he was an atrocious auror, letting Draco off, the way he was, but…he just didn't have it in him to turn his once most hated enemy over to the ministry…over to Azkaban…over to Dementors.

Plus, it wasn't as though Draco was a dark wizard. It had been obvious to Harry that Draco had been under some sort of curse. Draco had honestly not wanted to do the things he had done. Hell, he still couldn't remember any of them – not one. The only murder he could recall had never turned out to be a murder at all because Harry had stopped him. And after a few memory charms, no one knew about that at all except Harry and Draco. Hermione didn't remember. Ron didn't remember what Hermione had told him. And even the overweight neighbor had no recollection of the scene that had taken place in the hall outside his flat.

Having to make his friends forget that night, however, still brought a tinge of guilt and sorrow to his heart.

He had showed up at Ron and Hermione's apartment later that night after Draco had tried to attack the "grader". Hermione had answered the door and immediately flung herself into Harry's arms, hugging him tightly, with a look of immense relief on her face.

"Oh Harry, I was so worried! I was just about to alert the ministry, but then Ron told me I shouldn't."

Harry had looked over Hermione's shoulder to Ron, "Thanks, Mate."

Ron had nodded, but he wore an expression of confusion, "Harry, you need to tell us what's going on. Malfoy shows up outside our door, threatens to kill Hermione, and then, when you show up, instead of taking him into custody you…you…. Well, she said it looked as though you two were hugging! Tell me that's not true!"

Harry had only frowned, "Hermione didn't lie to you, Ron."

Ron looked torn between disgust, anger, and even more confusion, "What…but…what do you _mean_?"

Harry had gently pulled Hermione off him and then passed them both to go sit down in their living room. They had followed him and taken seats across from him on the sofa, both staring at him intently.

"I think…I love him. I think…I think that I have…always…loved him."

Hermione's eyes had went wide, and Ron had sat forward so quickly Harry had been amazed he hadn't fallen right off the couch, as he exclaimed, "Love_him_?! Love who?"

Harry couldn't bring himself to keep looking at the pair of them, and so turned his head to stare off into their kitchen, "Draco."

Silence had met his proclamation.

And then, "Oh, Harry…"

Harry had forced his eyes back to look at Hermione who was shaking her head sadly.

"What did he do to you, Harry?"

"Nothing, Hermione. He didn't do anything to me. I mean…not in the way you're thinking anyway," Harry had answered.

"But you're not…I mean you aren't…_you know_…"

"What? Gay, Ron? Is that what you're trying to get at?" Harry asked.

Ron had given a half-hearted shrug and then looked away from Harry.

Harry gave a shrug of his own, "Yeah, well…it's news to me too."

Hermione whispered, "But Harry…you know…I mean, this does seem _awfully_ suspicious. This has just come out of no where."

Harry had interlaced his fingers and sat hunched over, staring at the ground, "Yeah, I know. But, I'm telling you – he didn't do anything to me, Hermione, Ron."

Ron hadn't said anything. He still looked resolutely away from Harry.

Hermione said, "But…Malfoy, Harry?"

"Yeah. I know."

And then more silence. No one had moved. Ron had continued to stare at the wall, Hermione had continued to scrutinize Harry, and Harry had continued to stare at the ground. He really needed them to show some form of acceptance, but he also knew that he shouldn't expect any damn miracles.

And he hadn't received any.

"HE JUST TRIED TO KILL HERMIONE! HE ALMOST MANAGED TO KILL ME BEFORE! HE ALMOST KILLED KATIE BELL!! HE LET DEATH EATERS INTO THE SCHOOL!!! HE FUCKED WITH US THE ENTIRE TIME WE WERE IN SCHOOL, MAKING SOME DAYS_BEYOND_ MISERABLE, AND NOW YOU'RE SITTING THERE TELLING US YOU'RE IN _LOVE_ WITH HIM!!!!"

Both Harry and Hermione had jumped at Ron's sudden outburst. Ron was on his feet, glaring at Harry, and slowly, Harry had stood.

Hermione didn't even say anything. Instead, tears were streaming down her face, and she was looking at Harry as though she were _immensely_ disappointed in him. Harry had frowned and reached inside of his robes, "I had hoped," he whispered, "that you guys would have at least _tried_ to understand. You know, seeing as how you're my best friends and all."

Ron, all ready being red from his anger, managed to turn a little more scarlet, and even Hermione's cheeks had turned pink with shame.

Harry had pulled out his wand and pointed it at the pair of them.

"_Harry_!" They both yelled at the same time, and the look they had given him had made him feel so guilty that he almost didn't do it.

Almost.

Harry had risen his wand higher, and said in a saddened, but determined voice, "Obliviate."

----------

Draco had not left Grimmauld Place since that night. He insisted it was because he had had no more hallucinations of his father telling him to go do things he didn't want to do – there were no longer periods of his life he couldn't quite recall – and because within Grimmauld Place he had control of his body. Harry was apt to agree with him, and so had allowed him to stay. Draco had taken up residence in Regulus' old room, and Harry found himself, more often than not, sleeping on the king-sized bed in the master bedroom instead of returning home for the night.

Draco had had Tibs bring all of his private things to Grimmauld, and, though he hadn't asked Harry, Harry found that he didn't mind. Sometimes, Harry still found himself irate that he cared so much about Draco. But he was starting to admit to himself, that there was nothing to be done for it. He didn't seem to have any sort of control, and when he tried to reign in his feelings, they seemed to go spiraling out of check even more.

Since they had sort of moved in together, neither man had made anymore approaches toward the other. It wasn't uncommon to find them laughing together over some stupid joke, or even talking about their Hogwarts days (the not so bad ones), but as for _feelings_, each kept them bottled up inside.

Draco didn't tell Harry that he was at Grimmauld Place because he didn't want to be too far from Harry ever again.

Harry didn't tell Draco that the reason it was all right for Draco to be there was because he loved him.

Indeed, after telling Ron and Hermione his feelings for Draco, and then subsequently wiping their memories soon after, Harry tried very hard not to think on the way he felt anymore. And he pretty much succeeded. Especially since, at work, he buried himself with the squib case. Since he knew the murderer behind the homicides, he searched, instead, for the person who had caused Draco to hallucinate, murder, and then forget his actions. Of course, this action led to more memory-modification charms as he sometimes had to completely divulge Draco's story to get a straight answer out of someone. Regardless of how hard he worked, however, he was still empty handed after two weeks.

Harry was reading over a file about a disbanded Death Eater faction when he heard someone clear their throat next to him. Finishing the sentence he was reading, he then looked up to see Hermione standing next to him.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry raised a brow at her. She seemed to be acting rather odd. Regardless, he replied, "Hello, Hermione."

She flicked her wand and a chair appeared. She sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and then stared at Harry as though she were trying to read his mind. Harry leaned back in his own chair, "Is there something you wanted to talk about, Hermione?"

"You don't come around anymore. Ron and I have barely seen you in two weeks."

Harry motioned toward his desk where files were strewn about, "I'm trying to solve this squib case, Hermione. I don't have time to be hanging out with anyone."

"You're hardly ever home."

Harry sighed, "That's because I'm working on the-"

"No, Harry," Hermione interrupted, her voice firm, "there's something more to it than that. There's something you're not telling Ron and I. I can just feel like it. Sometimes, its almost like I have the answer, but then it just slips out of my grasp."

Harry looked at her innocently, "Hermione, I'm telling you-"

"And you're lying to me. You're lying to Ron. And you're lying to me. And I don't know why, Harry. Did we do something wrong? I mean, after all we've been through in our past, it can't be because you're trying to protect us that has you skiving us off. So what's going on?"

Harry frowned. He supposed, in a way, they had done something wrong, but he couldn't tell her that, not without revealing the fact that he had cast a memory charm on them both, anyway. And he wasn't about to do that anytime soon.

"Harry, where have you been going? Sometimes, you're not even home late at night when Ron needs to talk to you about something bothering him. You've become completely indisposed."

Harry's frown deepened, "I've been at Grimmauld."

Hermione nodded, "Okay. And why didn't you just tell Ron and I that? You know, so we don't have to worry so much."

"Because I don't want you two there," Harry answered honestly, though he did so in a very kind voice.

Hermione looked hurt, regardless, "Wh-why not?"

"Yeah, mate, why not?"

Harry turned to see Ron standing in a place that was just out of his peripheral range. Harry sighed, "Because I have…" But he didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell them Draco was there. They wouldn't understand. They hadn't before and they wouldn't now.

"Because you have…" Hermione said, trying to get him to continue.

Harry grabbed a random file off his desk, "I have to go."

Ron stepped in his way, "You need to tell us what's going on. You've been acting so odd lately. It's like you're not even yourself. Or like you've been…_imperiused_."

Harry immediately shook his head, "No, no, no. I'm still me, I just have things going on and I-"

"Don't want to talk about it with your two best friends?" asked Hermione in a voice that said she all ready knew the answer.

Harry couldn't help the anger that rose within him then. He reached up and pushed Ron out of his way, and was halfway up the aisle between the auror cubicles before he turned around, and said, because he knew he'd erased it from their memories, but he needed them to remember, needed them to put some it together before they approached him again, "You two always did know me best."

His eyes played over both Hermione and Ron's surprised, worried faces, before he turned away, and continued on his way.

----------

Draco stood up from the kitchen table when he heard the front door open. He looked at the clock and saw that it was only a little after noon, and raised a brow. It was odd for Harry to be home this early. Usually, he didn't come walking in any earlier than five in the evening, though, more often than not, it was even later than that. He heard Harry kick off his shoes, and move down the hall. His footsteps paused somewhere around the middle of the hall where the entry was to the sitting room, and then resumed a moment later to carry him further down the hall until he was standing in the kitchen doorway.

Draco saw a light come to life in Harry's eyes, and Draco ignored the fluttering sensation in his stomach as he sat back down, "Harry," he said, "you're home early."

"I like the sound of that," replied Harry as he sat down across from Draco.

Draco's brow rose again, "What do you like the sound of? That you're home early?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, closed it, and then, after looking away from Draco, nodded, and answered, "Yeah."

But Draco had a feeling that Harry had been about to say something else, and so he asked, "Was there something you were going to say other than 'yeah'?"

Harry stared off into the distance, and just when Draco was sure Harry wasn't going to answer at all, and was turning back to his turkey sandwich, Harry looked right at him, and said, "When you say my name, I like the sound of that."

Draco blinked, "I'm sorry?"

Harry smiled, "Now who's deaf?"

"Harry."

"It's just, you know, so much better than _Potter._ It reminds me that we're not sworn enemies anymore. Quite the opposite, in fact."

And the last of what Harry said was so low Draco had to lean forward to hear it. He then tilted his head, "Are you…ashamed of our friendship?"

"That's not what I mean."

"What?"

"Ugh – nothing. Never mind. I have to go. I…forgot something at the office."

Draco stood up at the same time Harry did, "Wait, Harry-"

But Harry just shook his head before he disapperated.

Draco sat back down in his seat. His appetite gone, the sandwich lay forgotten as he let his mind linger on Harry.

Two weeks ago, Draco had just been playing with Harry when he came onto the other man. He had thought it was amusing. The desire Draco had felt had been real, certainly, yes, but now…well, now there was something all together different with the way he felt for Harry.

At first, it had been out of appreciation that he did not touch Harry. He didn't want to piss off the man that had saved him from killing someone when he hadn't wanted to. Then, it had been because he and Harry had embarked on a strange journey that ended up blooming into an unlikely friendship. Finally, it was because, before Draco knew what he was feeling, it was too late: he loved Harry. And though he wished that Harry felt the same way – what with the way the man looked at him sometimes – Draco did not get his hopes up.

After all, how could Harry ever feel _anything_ for Draco other than some mild form of friendship? Hell, even that surprised the shit out of Draco. And though Draco still considered Harry the 'Golden Boy' it wasn't so much "The Ministry's Golden Boy" or "Dumbledore's Golden Boy" as it was "_My_ Golden Boy".

"Mr. Malfoy, Sir, someone is knocking on the door. Shall Kreacher answer it?"

Draco looked to the house-elf standing next to his chair, brought out of his thoughts. He heard the knocking then, and he stood up. "No, I'll get it," he then moved out of the kitchen. Though, in the doorway he stopped and looked back at Kreacher who was picking up Draco's forgotten food, "Erm…thank you, Kreacher."

Kreacher gave a slight bow, and then continued cleaning up after Draco.

Draco moved up the hall. He was sure that it had to be Harry. It didn't occur to him that Harry wouldn't knock on his own door, but his desire to see the other man made him think this. He opened the door without even asking who it was, and then froze.

Ron and Hermione, standing outside on the doorstep froze as well.

Ron recovered first, "_Malfoy_! What are you doing here?"

"I_knew_ there was something wrong with Harry. I should have known it was you're fault, Malfoy!" yelled Hermione. And Draco watched in slow motion as they both reached for their wands.

And then it all happened quite suddenly. Draco's wand was in his hand and he was aiming it at Ron before he bellowed, "Incarcerous!"

Ron fell backwards down the steps as ropes bound his arms to his sides and his legs tightly together.

"Impedimenta!" came Hermione's voice, and Draco went flying backwards into the house. She ran in after him.

But just as easily as he was thrown back, he was up again. He directed his wand at the door, "Colloportus!" Which he then followed up with a quick Imperturbable Charm, and the front door slammed shut and locked itself.

Hermione still had her wand pointed at Draco, and there was a mixture of fear, confusion, and rage shining in her eyes as she yelled, "Malfoy! What do you think you're doing? Where's Harry?"

But Draco answered with another spell, "Petrificus Totalus!"

"Protego!"

Draco dodged his rebounded spell, "Relashio!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The two spells collided in the air and rebounded in opposite directions.

"_Malfoy!_" Yelled Hermione.

But he wasn't listening, and instead moved in a blur, "Rictusempra, Stupefy, Tarantallegra," and now, standing with his body perpendicular to hers, his sword pointed at her like the deadly weapon it was, at the moment, being used as, he yelled, "Sectumsempra!"

Hermione, used to tough wizard duels threw off three of the curses, but the fourth hit her square in the chest. She let out a strangled cry, flew backwards so that her back slammed into the door, and then sank to the floor, blood quickly pooling around her.

* * *


	13. Loveless Potion

* * *

_Chapter Twelve: Loveless Potion_

Sound rushed in on Draco. He heard someone screaming on the other side of the door, banging their fists against it, "_Hermione! Hermione! Damn you, Malfoy! If you've hurt her I swear I'll kill you!!_"

Draco took a startled step backwards, "What?"

He blinked and saw someone standing in the entry to the sitting room. Turning his eyes, he saw his father, who gave him a wide grin before vanishing.

Draco was breathing so fast that it was safe to say he was hyperventilating. He looked down at Hermione, crumpled on the floor, not moving, her blood continuing to pool around her, "No…no…no, no, no!"

A crack sounded behind him, and Draco whirled around to see Harry standing there. Emerald eyes quickly took in the situation, and then he rose his wand, pointing it at Draco.

"Harry, please!" Draco began to plead, raising his hands.

Harry took a couple of steps forward, tapped Draco's head with his wand, and Draco felt something cold and wet trickling down his back.

"Harry?"

Harry placed his finger against his own lips, "Shh. Just stay out of the way for now."

Draco, noticing rather quickly that he was completely invisible, including to himself, moved down the hall, back in the direction of the kitchen, and stopped just before he would have entered, so he could watch what happened next.

Harry rushed forward and picked up Hermione, before waving his wand at the door, and it burst open a second later, Ron, huffing and puffing, and his wand up and at the ready, stood just outside.

"Expel-…Harry?" Ron then looked to Hermione, blood-stained, and deathly pale, and reached out for her, going almost as pale as she was, "'Mione? _Hermione!_"

Harry quickly relinquished his hold on Hermione letting Ron take her and cradle her in his arms, "Get her to St. Mungo's, Ron."

"Malfoy! He's the one-"

"Just go, Ron! I'll take care of everything!"

"But!"

"Do you want her to die?"

Ron only spared another moment to give Harry a confused look before he turned on spot and disapperated.

"Draco!"

"Here, Harry," and Draco reached out and touched Harry's shoulder.

Harry shut the door, replaced the spells Draco had had on it a moment before, added another on top of it to ensure that no eaves-dropping could take place, and then tapped his wand on Draco's head again so that Draco became visible once more.

Draco was looking down at the floor. Both he and Harry were standing in crimson liquid, and Draco felt immensely sick to his stomach. Turning, he spotted an umbrella holder that looked to be made out of a troll's leg, and after taking a second to remove the umbrellas; Draco knelt beside it and vomited into it.

Behind him, he felt Harry kneel, and then he felt the heavy weight of a hand on his head, running through his hair. Draco continued to be sick in the troll until he felt so weak he slumped against it, his hair hung limp in his eyes, his skin was a sickly shade of green, and a fine sheen of perspiration that chilled him to the bone covered his entire body.

Draco felt one of Harry's arms slip around the back of his knees, and then behind his back. Draco lifted an arm to wrap around Harry's shoulder as Harry then, wordlessly, lifted him off the floor. After ensuring that his grip was tight, Harry turned up the hall, and headed upstairs. With his foot, he nudged open the door to Regulus' room, and carried Draco inside where he laid him down on the bed.

"I didn't mean to, Harry," croaked Draco through a throat that was sore from all the stomach acid that had just went rushing up through it.

"Shh," Harry said simply, and then he moved to the end of the bed and reached for Draco's feet. He tenderly drew off Draco's socks that were drenched in Hermione's blood, and then waved his wand to rid the bottom's of his feet of the crimson stain, as well.

"I swear I didn't mean to," and Draco's voice caught at the end because he was now sobbing. Embarrassed by his actions, embarrassed by his tears, Draco turned onto his side. A moment later he felt the bed behind him sink, and then he felt a warm body pressed up against him from behind. One of Harry's arms stretched out above and over Draco's head, the other arm draped over Draco's side, the palm of Harry's hand resting warmly over the other man's heart. Harry pulled him backwards, and Draco sobbed even harder.

---------

Harry continued to hold onto Draco until Draco's sobs calmed, his breathing slowed, and his body stopped trembling. Once he was sure Draco was sleeping soundly, Harry slowly extricated himself from the bed. He then used scourgify to clean up the mess of blood, starting with his own socks.

His own socks. His socks were why he'd come back to the house after leaving Draco in the kitchen. He had realized, only after apperating back to the ministry, that he'd left his shoes beside the door. He could've gone back to his flat and grabbed another pair, but Harry was honest with himself now – if he had the choice of seeing or not seeing Draco, he was going to choose the former.

When he had appearated into complete chaos, Harry had taken in the scene, and after looking into Draco's eyes, had decided right then and there that Draco hadn't done it on purpose, and so he had hid him from Ron. But that didn't mean he was going to be able to get out of this mess. Ron would have every auror within the ministry alerted about _Malfoy_ within the hour, and that was just one too many memory charms. Harry was going to have to fess up.

Standing in front of the door, cleaning up Hermione's blood, made Harry sick to his stomach, but he managed to keep the threatening bile down by thinking about Draco and his problem. Harry couldn't find anything. Not one damn magical reason as to why Draco was being forced to do the things he was. There were no signs of magic of any kind.

And then Harry froze, his wand poised over the troll leg as he prepared to cast a vanishing charm to get rid of Draco's sickness within. A light bulb could practically be seen flaring as bright as the sun above his head. Of course, this new idea made Harry's face pull into such a deep frown he looked as though he'd just been told someone he loved died.

A chiming noise sounded in the air, and Harry finished the vanishing charm before turning to the door, and, after using all the correct counter spells, pulled it open. Ron, standing in front of two other aurors by the names of Lex and Ella, looked at Harry. Ron didn't even say anything; he just pushed his way past Harry, the other two aurors quick to follow. Harry sighed and shut the door after them before turning to look at Ron.

Ron was glaring at Harry, but Harry forced himself to not look away. After a moment Ron said, "We're here to search your house."

Harry gave a slight nod. Ella moved into the sitting room, Lex into the kitchen. Ron and Harry stood in the hall.

"How is she?"

"_Don't_! Don't you dare pretend you give a damn about Hermione," Ron hissed.

Harry shook his head, "Of course I care about her!"

Ron pulled his wand and aimed it at Harry, and Harry couldn't hide the shock from showing on his face. He imagined this was the way Ron and Hermione had felt the night he'd pulled his wand on them before casting the memory charm.

"You don't give a damn about her. I don't even know who you are anymore, mate, and I-"

"That's right," Harry interjected, "I'm your mate. Still. Nothing's changed. I just needed time-"

"Time for what, Harry? And what the bloody hell was Malfoy doing here?"

Draco. Harry needed to get upstairs before either Ella or Lex went up first and found Draco sleeping in the bed.

"I have to use the bathroom," said Harry.

Ron blinked, "What?"

"The bathroom. I haven't been feeling that well today. I need to use the bathroom," Harry gave Ron the most innocent look he could muster.

Ron didn't lower his wand, but he nodded, "All right. Go on then, but I'm coming with you."

"It's just upstairs, Ron. I'm not going to run away."

"You could apperate out of here, Harry. I'm not stupid."

"Why would I want to apperate out of here? I'm not the enemy, Ron. I'm your best fucking friend. Now stop being a damn clod, and let me go upstairs," Harry gave Ron a menacing glare.

Ron continued to gaze at Harry with something akin to distrust in his eyes, before his wand slowly lowered, and he relented, "Fine. Go. But I swear to God, Harry – mate or not – if you apperate out of here, I'll hunt you down and beat the bloody life out of you. You have some answering to do. Hermione's lying in a bed…half dead…and you…" Ron shook his head and pointed violently toward the stairs, "Just go. You have three minutes."

"More than enough time. Go have a seat in the sitting room, and tell Kreacher I asked for him to bring you some tea."

Ron didn't acknowledge that he'd heard Harry. He stood rooted in spot, still pointing to the stairs. Harry walked around him and moved up them, and it was only when he was almost at the top that he heard Ron's shuffling footsteps move toward the sitting room, and, a second later, the sound of Kreacher's voice.

Harry then sped toward Draco's room. Once he was inside, he shut the door silently behind him, and moved over to the bed. He reached down and lightly touched Draco's shoulder, "Draco," he whispered, "Draco, wake up."

Draco stirred and then slowly opened his eyes, turning to look at Harry.

"I need you to hide. Ron and two other auror's are here checking the house for you."

Draco sat up, "What?"

Harry covered the other man's lip with his own finger, "Shh. Listen, I'm going to disillusion you again. When they come in here, looking for you, just stay out of their way all right, and _ be silent_. If you do that, everything will be fine."

"What if they cast the counter charm the way I did to you that night…" Draco trailed off.

Harry looked at him, "What?"

But Draco didn't have time to explain, because Harry heard someone mounting the stairs. Draco leapt off the bed quietly, and then turned around, straightening the blankets so they were smooth and perfect. He then looked at Harry, "Okay. I'm ready."

Harry nodded, "You'll be fine – just stay hidden, Draco. If worse comes to worse…apperate the hell out of here, and we'll meet up later."

"But won't they…"

"Shh," Harry raised his wand and tapped Draco on the head. Before the man disappeared completely, Harry gave him a wink, and Draco gave Harry a weak smile.

The steps were moving toward this bedroom. Harry raised his wand and tapped his own head, casting the same charm he'd just cast on Draco on himself. He felt a touch on his shoulder, and he knew it was Draco noting Harry's current station before the hand lifted, and all signs of Draco being in the room disappeared – other than the faintest scent that was Draco's alone, and Harry doubted the auror's would pick up on that.

Walking over to the wall, Harry waited until the door opened, and Ella came gliding in. Once she moved over by the bed, Harry slipped out of the room, cast the countercharm, and then headed back downstairs.

Ron was sitting on the couch in the sitting room, holding a glass of hot tea that didn't seem to have anything drunk out of it, wearing a worried look upon his features, and Harry knew he was thinking about Hermione. Harry couldn't stop the pang of guilt that coursed through him as he took a seat on the couch next to his friend, and prepared to lie to him.

But before either man could say a word, the chime of the door bell, followed by a very soft knock sounded, and Harry stood up.

"Expecting company?" Ron asked, his voice full of suspicion.

Harry shook his head, "No, but wait just a moment, all the same." Harry left the sitting room and moved back to the door. Pulling it open, his eyes widened a little at seeing who it was standing on his doorstep.

Her dirty-blonde hair was pulled up into a loose bun atop her head with pieces of long hair hanging about her face and the back of her neck. Instead of sporting turnip shaped earrings she was wearing ones that dangled almost down to her shoulders and ended with a large round disc that had a cat's face carved into it. Her eyes, still just as protuberant as ever gazed up at Harry with the same misty, dazed look, and Harry, despite the predicament he was currently in, couldn't help but smile. She was dressed in muggle clothing, and, considering how odd she could be sometimes, seemed to have done a pretty good job of it (minus the earrings) as she was dressed in a long white skirt and a robin's-egg blue short-sleeved top. In her hands she was holding a vial filled with a black liquid.

"Luna. It's nice to see you, but what are you doing here?"

Luna gave Harry a quizzical look and then held out the vial, "You wanted this, remember? I told you it would take about two weeks."

Harry reached out and took the vial. He stared at it strangely, trying to remember what it was he would have asked Luna for, and then, everything clicked into place – the night he had brought Draco here to Grimmauld, he had called Luna asking her for this potion.

"I can't help but wonder," came Luna's misty, far-away voice, "who it is that you love, but have no desire to love, and so are in need of this Loveless potion."

Harry curled his fingers around the vial, but he didn't answer.

She continued to gaze up at him as though expecting him to respond, but when she was met only by uninterrupted silence, she said, "Well, the effects are immediate, and irreversible, so think about it before you drink it."

Harry nodded, "Thank you, Luna."

Luna shrugged, "Oh, you're welcome, Harry. Tell Ron and Hermione I said hello." And with a little wave, she turned on spot and disapperated.

Harry stood within the entrance, staring down at the vial, his thoughts waging war in his mind.

"A loveless potion, Harry?"

Harry closed the door and turned to look at Ron.

Ron gazed at Harry. Harry gazed back.

Ron took a step toward Harry, "Who do you love, Harry?"

Harry didn't answer.

Ron took another step forward, "Who do you _love_, Harry?"

Harry shook his head.

"You'd best drink that potion, Harry. Because if I find Malfoy in this house, I'm not just going to arrest him."

Harry's hands curled into tight fists. So much so that the vial creaked under the pressure, "Don't do this," he whispered.

Ron was looking at Harry as though he truly had no idea who the man before him was, as though Harry were an old enemy, someone not to be trusted at any costs, and Harry's heart hurt. Ron took another step forward, "Drink it, Harry."

"You're being irrational!" Harry yelled.

"_I'm_ being irrational, Harry? You've got to be _kidding_ me! _I'm_ not the one in love with a bloody murderer, you back-stabbing, treacherous,_ lying_…" and Ron's wand was aimed at Harry again.

Harry did not raise his own.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Ron yelled.

Ella and Lex appeared on the stairs and looked down at Ron and Harry, their eyes wide at the scene before them. No one had ever seen Ron and Harry fight, and now Ron looked as though he were mere moments away from throwing the killing curse.

"Guys…" came Ella's tentative voice.

"Ron, Harry – what are you two doing?" Lex asked, pure surprise reflected in his voice.

Ron did not acknowledge the auror's, neither did Harry. Instead, Harry continued to gaze at Ron, a pleading note in his voice as he whispered, "Just give me time."

Ron marched toward Harry until his wand tip was under Harry's chin, forcing his face up. Ron glared down at him, his voice a hiss that would not carry to Ella and Lex, and Harry was thankful for this as Ron said, "He killed those squibs, didn't he?"

Harry gave a slight nod.

"Why?"

"I don't know," Harry answered, "But I have an idea."

"An idea? I have one too. He's a psychotic, evil bastard."

Harry sighed, "You're almost right."

Ron looked past Harry, "Is he here?"

Harry gave another faint nod.

"And you love him?" And with this question, Ron's voice sort of squeaked out in disbelief.

"Yes."

"After everything he's done to us?"

"I've let it go."

"What about those squibs, Harry? Did you let those go too? What kind of auror are you?"

Harry felt tears gathering in his eyes as he shook his head, "I can't send him to Azkaban."

"That's where he belongs, Harry."

"I love him, Ron," and Harry felt a tear slip down his cheek.

"_Why_?" Ron asked, a look of betrayal in his eyes, but his wand lowered slightly.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, "Because I always have."

"And you _ just_ realized this?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded.

And then silence reigned between the two men until Ron finally turned to Ella and Lex, "Let's get out of here. He must have escaped."

"What about Harry?" Lex asked.

"Should we take him in?" Ella pushed.

Ron seemed to heavily consider it, but then he shook his head, "No. Let's just go."

Ella and Lex finished coming down the stairs, and then passed Ron and Harry on their way out the door. Ron lingered behind to give one last warning, "If she dies…he dies. Hell, if _anyone else_ dies, he dies. So you'd best keep that potion handy. Got it, Harry?"

And then he was gone, and Harry was left standing in the entrance hall, shaking so hard he thought he'd fall apart. But then, he felt an invisible arm wrap around his waist, and then an invisible hand rested upon the back of his neck. Harry let invisible Draco pull him tight against his chest, and, with Draco's scent swimming around him, Harry buried his face in Draco's shirt, and cried.

* * *

** A/N**: Hello. I would advise all devoted readers (or new readers that are familiar with "If Looks Could Kill") to please turn to the update page. Thank you.

* * *


	14. Letters to Reviewers Before The End

5

Letters to Reviewers Before "The End"

A/N: So, before I start a new chapter, I want to smooth out a few wrinkles. The reason I'm inserting this before any further chapters is because the reviewer made a good point, and I want everyone to be clear as to what is going on in these certain situations. If you find that everything has been crystal so far, and you don't care whether or not you've been included in this list, then, by all means, simply ignore this.

Another reason I'm inserting this here is because my computer has been acting absolutely crazy, and if it goes BOOM I want the reviewers to have their questions answered, as well as proper gratitude's extended. The last three chapters will probably violently abort my head and so you can probably expect one chapter right after the other.

To: XhoXho (and all other readers of this fan fiction that may be feeling confused over chapters 9,10, and 12)

Hello! First off, I wanted to thank you for being a continued reader of my story, and for dropping reviews. I'm being completely honest when I say that a kind word is greatly appreciated by authors everywhere. So it should go without saying, though I'll say it anyway, that you have been exceedingly appreciated.

Now, on to other matters. I shall address first your concern with Chapter nine, and Harry's actions after finding Draco in a rather uncompromising position. I consider it a great failure that I did not clarify this scene further. Though this may be my first fanfic, it is not the first thing I have ever written, and so I should have known to be clearer. As a writer it seems to be my own personal writing-style to not dictate everything to my readers, but have them instead ascertain particular ideas or thoughts on their own. Of course, I try very hard to make sure I leave only one assumption viable, but it seems that was not the case this time. I shall explain, therefore.

When Harry appearates into the hall, intent on asking Hermione (the smartest witch he's even known) what a "grader" is, and finds, instead, Draco clinging to a doorframe looking completely terrified, he is at first, of course, upset – he has just worked out exactly what Tibs meant when he'd said a "grader". Because of Harry and Draco's past, it seems only fair that he should immediately think the worst of Draco. It is even more feasible that Harry would immediately assume the worse because Tibs has just revealed that Draco is, indeed, the one behind all of the squib murders.

However, as revealed in later chapters, Harry had all ready, even at that moment in time, feelings for Draco. The look in Draco's eyes as he pleaded for Harry to take notice of the fact that he was wanting the woman he was trying to kill to call for Harry to stop him, combined with Harry's emotions (which we all know makes him act completely idiotic sometimes), and then mixed with Draco slamming into him as he loses his hold on the frame and goes rushing at Hermione, results in a scene in which Harry (because he is capable of great compassion and usually tends to accept as true that people are generally good) believes in Draco.

He, without one doubt in his mind, believes that Draco really has been "put up to" everything he's done to the squibs, especially since earlier in the night Harry had had to re-enlighten Draco that his parents (The Malfoy's, that is) were dead even though Draco should have all ready known this. To be sure, Draco displayed very prominent signs of having either one too many memory modification charms cast on him or, perhaps, something even more sinister than that done or being done to him. Regardless, to Auror Harry, it looked as though Dark Magic was to blame.

When Hermione, in her confused and angry state, says, "What's he doing here?" Harry correctly assumes that she:

Had no idea Draco had truly meant what he'd said when he had stated earlier, "Look, Granger, just do what I say, all right? That is, if you'd rather live than die?"

That Draco is the one behind the squib murders.

Uses "he" in a very degrading manner that reflects purely on the past and has nothing to with the current situation or, better yet, scenario.

Is guilty of using the same biased mentality toward Draco that Harry is, himself, struggling with.

Your concern with the laughter at the end of chapter ten should be adequately explained now that the end of chapter nine is, I hope, comprehensible. With the addition of chapter eleven, explaining that Harry has done nothing, but been looking into why Draco did the things he had done, further confusion should be resolved.

To take completely from your review: "Hm, I agree with Ron in this chapter...Seriously, if their positions were reversed I'm sure Harry would be pissed at Ron for protecting the gone-crazy-murderess-after-Draco Hermione."

When I decided to take on a Harry Potter fanfic, I did my very best to not get the characters too far out of character (OOC). Of course, as I am not J.K. (who knows the characters better than any other creature on the planet), it can be assumed that there will be slip-ups. However, I do not think I messed up this time, even though I stopped and questioned myself for half a day over this particular review.

Harry is a best friend of both Ron and Hermione. Even with the current situation between him and Draco, Harry responds exactly as I would like to think he would. Before he cast the memory charm on Ron and Hermione, he told them that he was in love with Draco, he told them that he was, as much as it surprised him as it did them, homosexual, and he had received no compassion, and he'd felt slightly betrayed.

I have never believed that Ron and Hermione would be completely accepting of Harry's sexuality right off the bat, and would need, instead, much time to digest it and get used to it. However, Harry does not have time. He can not both research deeper into Draco's problems, and fend off his friends as they try to convince him that Draco has bewitched him. Not to mention including Ron and Hermione in on Draco's dirty deeds and asking them to keep it a secret is a bit unfair. It would be in Harry's character to protect them from going down for withholding evidence, and, as such, being an accomplice into the squib murders. If Harry were to go to Azkaban for protecting Draco is an entirely different matter compared to taking his "family" with him.

All of this aside, Harry continues to believe in Draco. For two weeks Draco had made no further attempts on Hermione's life or anyone else's. He even seems to be regaining his sense of compassion as he displays warmth, albeit awkwardly, toward Kreacher. These are all things that Harry has noticed, and further drives his acceptance of Draco being innocent.

When Hermione shows up at Grimmauld and Draco immediately attacks her, Harry assumes that this is because while within Grimmauld Place it was easy to avoid the curse, but when you bring the temptation home, even the wards and spells cast on the that home might not be enough.

Harry clearly stated, "Because I don't want you two there," when Hermione asked him why he had told neither she nor Ron that Harry had been staying at Grimmauld. This is a case of where I left more than one assumption open for evaluation. The reader could assume that Harry said this because they just hadn't understood his love for Draco, and did not want to relive that moment. But, when read between the lines, and taking in Harry's personality, his profession, and his unyielding "hero-complex" it can also be assumed that Harry doesn't want them there because he's afraid Draco will hurt Hermione – that everything hasn't become just hunky-dory for Draco because he moved within Grimmauld. Indeed, if Harry believed that, he wouldn't be trying to discover what or who was/is behind Draco's actions. Therefore, Harry hides Draco from Ron because he still believes that none of Draco's actions are Draco's fault.

Even if the roles were reversed, Harry would not kill Hermione if she had attacked Draco. Because his bond with Ron is so powerful, Harry would trust in Ron. He would be slightly sore, yes, but he would take the following instances into consideration:

Ron just told Harry he was in love with Hermione.

Ron is undoubtedly loyal even if the situation speaks against him.

Ron, knowing that Hermione is behind a bunch of murders, still stands up for her, and that if nothing else proves that there may be merit to what he's saying.

Because Harry trusts Ron.

But we all know that our Ronald has a hot-blooded temper, and so his character must be taken into consideration, as well, for his actions and words.

In closing, I think everyone acted completely within character – even with Harry's breakdown at the end of chapter twelve, and Draco's earlier.

---------

To: tsuki aoi usagi, LawlietsDarkAngel, tinogirl, Hyper Hippie, Ronny: Thank you very much! I am usually very quick to update. Hope to see you again on the review boards!!

To: RoseNarc, ink.returns, suddon, Adamei, Kohlrabi, Loir, madeleines-alive, Emerald Dragon 1144: Thank you kindly for all of your wonderful words. Seriously, from the bottom of my heart: thank you.

To: Emerald Dragon 1144, IndiscreetMidnight, luna-tejedora, pillowey14: Oh my gosh, thank you so much for favorite-ing this story. That is a massive honor. –grins so wide her cheeks hurt– I love you all.

To: DragonAmante, Hyper Hippie, IntoxicatedByYou, LawlietsDarkAngel, Pixydive, Streifenhoernchen, Tilism, charmedpiper18199, darkshadowarchfiend, fallen2008, madeleines-alive, tsuki aoi usagi, xxNEESHxx: Story-Alert – thank you so much. When you story-alert someone it usually means that you not only like their story (which some of you are repeated names so I all ready know that ), but it also means you want to stick with that author all the way to the end. I have to admit; the latter brings a little tear to my eye.

To: All Future Readers after this story is wrapped up and put aside: Thank you for stopping by, thank you for reading, and if you review or favorite me – thanks for that too!

* * *

To: Reviewers Whom Like to Leave Spoilers in Their Reviews: DON'T!!!!! and the below is why:

THIS IS WHY WE DON'T TYPE PLOT TWISTS AND SPOILERS IN REVIEWS!!! _THIS_!! **_THIS IS WHY_**!!!

"Haha...yeah...I looked at the reviews before I read any of your story, and I already know a certain something about Draco's parents. Oh well...I will read your story anyway...even though that "TWIST" has been ruined.

cloudy! "

AND YES!! I AM KICKING MY FEET AND SCREAMING LIKE AN ENRAGED CHILD!!! -coughs- But I think my actions should and shall be forgiven because of how massively angry I am.

* * *


	15. Fessing Up

* * *

_Chapter Thirteen: Fessing Up_

Draco was sitting by himself in the kitchen. Harry had left, mumbling something about going to the library, not long after he had finally regained his composure. After a shower, and brushing his teeth, Draco had gone back downstairs, apprehensive. His anxiety was caused by more than one thing.

The first of which being Hermione Granger. He still didn't know what had come over him. He hadn't meant to attack her. He didn't even remember pulling his wand, and the events after that were a complete blur until she was lying on the ground, bleeding to death. Draco knew what it was like to bear that last spell he had cast on her. Harry had cast it on him in their sixth year at Hogwarts, and if it hadn't been for Snape…well, Draco might not even be sitting here. He sorely hoped that someone at St. Mungo's was familiar with Sectumsempra, and how to heal it.

The second matter that had his gut tied in knots was the way Harry had looked at him before leaving. There had been a distant look in his eyes, and a worried frown on his face. In his hand, he clutched a vial of black liquid, a vial he had handed to Draco before walking out the door, and that was another matter that concerned him. Harry had _walked_ out the door. He hadn't disapperated, and Draco couldn't imagine what was in a muggle library that was not in a wizard library that Harry had to go find.

Back to the vial, Draco looked down at it. In school, he had always received top marks in potions, and it hadn't been because Snape was easy on him. The American teacher, for instance, had also given him top marks, and there had been no sort of affiliation with that woman. But just because he was always best in his class when it came to potions (all right, _second_ best to Hermione back at Hogwarts) didn't mean he recognized the potion lying on the wooden table before hm. Granted, if he popped the cork, took a whiff, and then took a drop for testing, he could probably figure it out, but did he want to? What had Ron said?

"_If she dies…he dies. Hell, if anyone else dies, he dies. So you'd best keep that potion handy. Got it, Harry?"_

What sort of potion would Harry have that would make a difference if Ron killed him – Draco? Yet another stressful problem.

Finally, the one that topped them all: seeing his father in Grimmauld. Draco had truly thought he was safe here. He'd had no other problems since Harry had brought him here a little over two weeks before, so…what was the problem suddenly? He was pretty sure it had everything to do with the fact that his last "task" had shown up right on his doorstep, and….

His doorstep? Draco looked around. Did he consider this small house home now? Well, there was only one way to really find out.

"Kreacher?"

The house-elf was standing next to his chair in a matter of seconds. He looked up at Draco, "Yes?"

"Kreacher…who am I?"

The house-elf looked amused, "You are Draco Malfoy," and then there was a slight hesitation before he continued with, "…Master."

Draco nodded, "Mm. I thought so."

--------

Harry, holding a thick volume under one arm, took in the building before him. The dummy standing just beyond the glass, dressed in obsolete clothing that was sun-bleached along with its plastic skin, stood stationary, just waiting for the proper word from Harry. Behind him, two women went walking past and he heard one say to the other, "You know, I've lived here for fifteen years, and I've _never_ seen that store open. What sort of refurbishing do you think they're_ doing_ in there?" Harry was strongly reminded of his first visit to this dilapidated building named Purge and Dowse, Ltd., but was actually St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped forward and whispered a few words to the glass where the dummy stood. He felt a little ridiculous doing such a thing, but this was the way one entered the hospital. After waiting a moment, Harry looked around, and then, as inconspicuously as he could manage, leaned against the glass only to slip through it half a second later.

Not sparing a moment to glance around at the waiting room full of wizards and witches with "magical maladies and injuries", Harry moved straight to the reception desk. The bored woman looked up at him, opened her mouth to start speaking, but Harry held up a hand to silence her, "I'm looking for Hermione Granger – she would have been admitted about three hours ago with a wound caused by the Sectumsempra curse."

The woman clicked her tongue, "She's been put into a private room, – no visitor's permitted."

Harry shook his head, "I'm allowed to see her. I'm an auror."

The woman clicked her tongue again, "Mmhmm. ID?"

Harry gave a little growl of frustration, but he set down the book he was carrying and dug into his robes. The woman's eyes scanned the title; before she looked back to him curiously, ignoring the ID he was holding up to show her, "Diagnostic and Statistical-?"

Harry immediately reached out and picked up the book, "So can you tell me what room she's in now?"

The woman gave yet another irritating click of her tongue, and Harry felt his eye twitch as she said, without even looking up the information, "Fourth floor, room 411."

"Than you," Harry said exasperatedly before he headed up the corridor to the stairwell. Once he reached the fourth floor, he was quick to find Hermione's room. The door was ajar, and Harry peeked his head around the side glancing in. She was by herself, and she was awake. Though she was still slightly pale, that was the only sign that she wore that said she had almost died a few hours before. She was even sitting up, an open book in her lap that she was peering down at. Harry reached up and knocked on the door.

Hermione took her eyes away from the page, and turned them toward Harry. She didn't smile, she frowned, as she said, "Come in then, Harry."

Harry pushed the door open and walked inside before turning and shutting the door behind him. He then turned back around to face her, "Hermione-"

"Ron's already told me. He was just here a few minutes ago. You just missed him," she motioned to the book, "He brought this for me."

Harry nodded.

Hermione lifted a hand and beckoned to him, "Come, and sit down, Harry."

"Yeah," Harry muttered before he moved over to her bedside and sat down in the chair that was sitting there. He set the thick book in his lap, and then looked up at her, "So, Ron told you-"

"That you're protecting Malfoy…even though he tried to kill me," Hermione chimed in, her voice sounding tense with anger and hurt.

Harry nodded, "And?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, "And that you…that is to say that you're…"

"In love with Draco," finished Harry.

Hermione nodded.

More silence, and then, "I'm glad you're all right, Hermione," and Harry's voice was tight with emotion.

Hermione looked at him, and faintly smiled, "I know you are, Harry."

And then more silence before Hermione asked, "Why are you here? I mean there has to be more to it than just checking up on me. What, with that big book you have sitting there in your lap."

Harry looked down at the volume, and gave a faint chuckle, before he looked back up to her, "I came first and foremost with the idea of making sure you are all right. I came secondly…to ask for your help."

Hermione's brow rose, "My help?"

"I need your help, in understanding what is wrong with Draco."

"Harry," Hermione said knowingly, "I think it's about time you've told me everything, don't you?"

"You're going to be mad."

"Madder?"

"Madder."

"Well, get on with it then."

And so Harry spilled, "You'd already known this, but I…cast a memory charm…."

* * *


	16. A Tender Moment

* * *

_Chapter Fourteen: A Tender Moment_

Harry didn't go home until late. The sun had long ago set, and the moon was high in the sky. He hadn't spent the afternoon, the evening, and the majority of the night at St. Mungo's, however. After telling Hermione everything there was to tell about Draco, including Harry's feelings for the man, they had searched through the thick volume for answers. They had cross referenced and then cross referenced what they had originally cross referenced until Harry had a headache, and only Hermione was completely alert.

She was not nearly as mad as he thought she would be over the memory charm. After he had told her everything, she had sat still upon the bed, looking off into space, considering, he imagined, her words for him carefully. After more than thirty minutes of silence, she'd finally turned to him and said, "I won't lie to you, Harry, I feel betrayed by you, but I am clever enough to realize that emotion should, most of the time, take a back seat to intellectuality. And the truth of the matter is, is that there are bigger issues on hand than whether or not you're gay."

Harry had opened his mouth to say something then, but Hermione had halted him with a stern look and a hand held up, and then she had continued, "It's going to be hard for me, getting used to him. Especially if he keeps trying to kill me," and here, she had smiled, and Harry had known that everything was going to be all right, even before she continued with, "but, if you are to be believed then that wasn't his fault. I love you. You're my best friend. You're the brother I never had. You're…I don't know, Harry. Nothing I try to compare you to, to validate just how deep my feelings for you run, seems adequate enough. And that should be enough to make you realize how much I care."

And it was, Harry had thought as he'd looked at Hermione, a smile of appreciation on his face.

She had then continued, "Because I care for you so much, because I trust you greatly, I will help you sort out the problem with Draco, but Harry…" And here she had frowned, and so too did Harry as she said, "I really think you should consider what Ron said…about the Loveless potion."

After looking over the book with Hermione for more than two hours, she had finally told him to go home and rest – to keep an eye on Draco, and that she would send an owl when or if she found anything that matched what Harry had told her about Draco. Harry had thanked her, kissed her cheek, hugged her, which she had returned affectionately, and then left.

But Harry had not gone home. Just from the reading they had covered in two hours, he was beginning to understand just how dangerous Draco's situation was. Harry had to face it: there was nothing magical behind Draco's actions it was just…Draco. Just Draco. Doing what he had done, doing what he did, just Draco. And Harry didn't know how to feel about that. The way he felt for Draco was unquestionable at this point. Now the question was: Did he drink the potion?

Only if it were that simple. Did he drink the potion? There were so many other questions and thoughts that stemmed off that one, and it were those that kept Harry away from Grimmauld, and, hence, Draco, for the majority of the day. He had walked around London until he was sure he had worn holes into the bottoms of his shoes, and then he had walked more until his legs were numb, and his thoughts along with them.

When he found himself standing outside of Grimmauld, staring up at the building, he gave a heavy sigh. Reaching up, he dragged one of his hands through his hair. He wondered if an owl from Hermione had all ready come to the house? He doubted Draco would open and read it, but there was always the chance…. Harry found himself sorely wishing that the owl had not come. Indeed, as he moved up the stairs and waved his wand at the door so that it opened of its own accord, he hoped her owl would never come.

And this thought was even further strengthened when, after he had stepped inside, the door closed behind him, and he looked up to see Draco standing next to the stairs, one hand on the banister, the other grasping his wand, wearing a frown. Harry let his eyes move over Draco, as he often found himself doing, and he felt a surge of warmth well up from the depths of his soul to distribute throughout the rest of his body.

Draco, dressed in a pair of green, silk pajamas, the dim light from the kitchen shining into the hallway to partially silhouette him, stepped forward, his hand dropping from the banister. A soft whisper issued forth from him, "I was worried about you."

Harry felt a knot of tension in his stomach as he whispered back, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry."

Draco slowly started to make his way toward Harry, "What did you expect? The way you left, and then not returning for hours? Did you think I wouldn't think much of it?"

Harry shrugged, and then realizing that might have looked insensitive, said, "No. I just…_I_ didn't think much on it."

"So you were being selfish?" Draco had closed half the distance that had originally separated them.

Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "No, I…I mean…" Harry looked away from Draco, and stared intently at the umbrella troll leg instead, "Yeah, I guess I was."

Harry could suddenly smell the crisp scent of clean laundry, a hint of lavender, and something that smelled faintly of anise and grapefruit – Draco's unique smell – and Harry's warmth intensified by a million fold. And then he felt Draco's hand on his cheek, and Harry felt like he was going to explode by the shock of feeling that went through him. His breath caught in his throat, he felt his cheeks warm, and as he lifted his own hand to gently place over the one on his face, he felt a gut-wrenching longing flash through him.

"Harry?"

Harry looked over at Draco, his green eyes meeting silver, and Draco leaned in so close that Harry felt the other man's breath fan over his lips, and Harry smelled peppermints again, and his knees felt like they were going to buckle as he whispered, "Yes?"

Draco leaned in closer, his head dipping slightly, but his eyes did not break from Harry's, and Harry's did not break from Draco's. Harry saw reflected in Draco's eyes exactly what he was feeling so when Draco breathed, reminding Harry of another night, "Do you want me, Harry?" Harry let out the tiniest moan, before he lifted his own chin, bringing his lips closer to Draco's.

"_Yes_," he answered, and his voice sounded torn between hating it and loving it, needing it and refusing it, but it didn't matter what it sounded like because Harry's actions spoke for themselves as he closed the distance still separating them, and kissed Draco.

For a second, Draco stood frozen, and Harry feared, for that one _awful_ second that Draco was just having a go at him, and then he felt smooth lips pressing back into his own, a hand sliding up his back after an arm had wrapped around his waist to pull him tight, a hand disappearing into his hair, a squeeze, a grasp, a grab.

Harry was so wrapped up in the feel of Draco's lips against his own, the feel of Draco's tongue invading his mouth to gently and then roughly, and then gently again, caress against his own tongue that he wasn't even aware they were moving until Harry felt the backs of his feet – and when had he kicked off his shoes? – hit something solid, and Draco hissed, "Up," in a passion saturated voice, and so Harry did as he was told, he took a step up, and then another, and another, and another until his feet were on level floor again.

Harry knew he was being pushed backwards down the hall upstairs, but he was too occupied with the buttons on the front of Draco's shirt to pay too much attention to where he was being compelled to go, and then much,_ much_ too occupied with the feel of hot flesh underneath his hands to notice he was going backwards up another staircase. Draco's hands seemed everywhere and nowhere at once, driving Harry absolutely insane because he wanted more, so much more, and this just didn't seem enough.

-_name_.

He wanted Draco to scream his name as he touched him, and kissed him, and pushed him onto a bed that was soft and warm, onto blankets that were brown and gold and ivory, as he crawled over top of the other man, who had somehow gotten underneath him, after they had somehow come into Harry's bedroom, after somehow coming up the stairs, after somehow ridding themselves of shoes and shirts and pants along the way until scorching hot skin was pressed against burning hot skin, and the only sounds echoing around them were those of their own making as guttural groans, sweet moans, and grating growls elicited from their mouths because of what the other was doing to them.

And neither knew whose voice was who's and where one ended and the other began because the heated embraces, touches, kisses, desire had made each positively delirious until it was more than just kisses and touches, it was something entirely different, a bittersweet experience that was only marred by a pain that eventually receded and the fact that it ultimately came to an end.

----------

They lie next to each other, Harry's hand on Draco's chest and his head resting on Draco's shoulder; Draco's arm, the shoulder of which was Harry's pillow, bent up at the elbow, and back down at the wrist to sweep fingers through silky black hair, and his other arm bent so that his hand was resting on top of Harry's.

It was Harry who spoke first, "I kissed you."

Draco smiled, "Yes. You did."

"You didn't kiss me back," whispered Harry, "I was…worried."

"I was surprised."

"Like we haven't kissed before?"

"True. But this is the first time you kissed me first."

Harry made a small noise that sounded like agreement, and then, "What did you mean earlier…when you said that you cast the counter spell to my disillusionment charm on me?"

At this, Draco gave a faint chuckle, and Harry titled his head back to look up into Draco's smiling face. Draco looked down, his eyes shining, "Well, you might be a little sore with me, but I'll tell you."

And then Draco proceeded to tell Harry about the evening in which he'd snuck into Auror Headquarters to read Harry's case file on the murders, and Harry had been there, under his disillusionment charm, and because of a certain something Draco said –

"Why did you get turned on just by sitting in my cubicle?" Harry interrupted.

Draco whispered, "Your smell."

Harry was reminded of how he, himself, was easily intoxicated by Draco's scent and he said, "And that's like…?"

"You're going to laugh."

"Tell me," Harry pleaded.

Draco took a deep breath, and then said, in a rather breathless voice, "Jasmine, and basil. Sage and Sandalwood, and, currently, sex."

Harry gave a soft chuckle, "Anyway, go on."

And so Draco continued, all the way through the encounter with the officer, and then to the make-out session he'd had with Harry before making Harry think it was all just a dream.

To which Harry said, "_That's_ what you meant in the elevator then."

And Draco nodded, and then a very calm, tender moment of silence passed between them in which they were completely comfortable just lying in the other's presence.

Sleep started to creep in on them, but instead of turning away from each other to seek a more relaxed location, they curled closer together because that _was_ the coziest position. The heat from the other's body further calmed and soothed them until, right on the cusp of falling into dreamland, a whispered voice said, "I love you, Draco."

And the reply wasn't in the slightest bit hesitant in coming, "I love you too, Harry."

* * *

**A/N**: So, I thought there would only be one more chapter, but there might be a couple more. I don't know yet. We'll see how it goes. Thanks for reading! 


	17. A Trigger

* * *

To **fifespice**: Please see "Letters to Reviewers" - the bottom of the page.

* * *

_Chapter Fifteen: A Trigger_

From the deepest sleep he had ever slumbered in, from the most pleasing dreams dancing before his mind's eye that he had ever had, from the most comfortable position he'd ever experienced, the sound of his name being called woke him. Opening eyes that were much reluctant in doing so, he turned his head slightly in the direction of the voice – which came from over his shoulder, and couldn't help uttering a soft gasp.

His father was staring down at him, a look of disapproval and disgust written all over his face as his eyes flicked toward Harry, and then back to his sons face, "What are you doing?"

And Draco was surprised that his father didn't even _try_ to keep his voice low, but what surprised him more was that Harry didn't stir in the slightest from the sound of the Lucius' voice. This sort of worried Draco, and he ignored his father long enough to ensure that Harry still had a heartbeat, before he gently disentangled himself, and then sat up on the edge of the bed, the sheet from the bed covering up his bottom half. He looked back up at his father, and unlike him, kept his voice low as he whispered, "What do you want now? Why are you doing this to me?"

"I don't think you should be asking me anything, Draco. You are the one that betrays your regal line by affiliating yourself with this…_filth_," Lucius hissed the last word, and Draco frowned deeply.

"There's nothing wrong with Harry. He's far from being filth…he's…he's…" but no word Draco thought of seemed good enough, and so he simply said, "…golden," because that was what Harry had always been.

Lucius snorted derisively, "Yes, well…I'll take your word for it."

Draco leaned forward, his voice lower than before, "_What_ are you doing here?"

Lucius didn't answer at first. He lifted his cane and stared down at his own reflection in the snake's head that was the cane topper, before reaching up to push back a strand of white-blond hair that had slid forward onto his cheek.

Draco frowned deeply, "_Well_?" he urged.

Lucius lowered the cane, "Aren't you tired of staying in this decrepit house? Why don't you go home?"

Draco felt his eyes narrow, "Because that place was driving me insane. And this house isn't decrepit. It's wonderful. And it's home n-"

"Oh? You think Harry wants someone like you living with him?"

Draco swallowed the rest of his interrupted sentence, and suddenly found great interest in the wood panel floor under his feet.

"That's right, Draco. If Harry is as – how did you put it? Oh yes, golden. If Harry is as _golden_ as you say he is, why in the world would he want a murderer like you around?"

Draco felt his ears warm, and he suddenly felt like the most wretched creature on the planet. What if someone else found out what he had done? What if they connected it all back to Draco? Draco all ready knew that Weasley knew, and that man was hot-blooded enough to turn Draco in and his whereabouts, probably relying on Harry's fame in the wizarding world to keep his best friend safe from Azkaban. But if Harry did have to go then wouldn't that be Draco's fault?

Draco rested his elbows on his knees, and then bent, lowering his face into his waiting palms. God, what had he been thinking? How could he have gotten Harry all tied up in this? If Draco loved Harry even _half_ of what he truly did, then it would still be unforgivable.

"What do I do?" asked Draco, his voice muffled because he didn't lift his head.

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and then his father's voice whispered, "You could always ki-"

_Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap_.

The hand from his shoulder disappeared, and Lucius was no longer there, as Draco turned to the source of the new sound. A tawny owl was sitting on the ledge outside the window. Draco looked at Harry, but he was still sleeping, and so Draco stood up, and walked to the window. Undoing the latch, he pushed it open. The bird immediately tried to soar over his head and toward Harry, but Draco caught the owl, "He's sleeping, you idiot," he growled.

With the owl under one arm, he took the letter hanging from the owl's leg, and then set the owl back outside who looked up at Draco rather disdainfully. "I'll give it to him, don't worry." The owl continued to glare at him, but after Draco shoved at it, it turned, and took back off into the night. Draco then closed and latched the window before looking down at the brown envelope in his hand.

"Why don't you open it?" Draco nearly jumped out of his skin as his father was once more beside him, looking down at the envelope as well. Lucius then looked up at Draco, "You know you want to."

Draco frowned and shook his head while he cast his eyes around the room, "No, I don't want to," he whispered, and then spotting what he was looking for, he walked to the end of the bed, sat down, and then bent to pick up his pajama bottoms. He pulled them on, and then stood up again.

Lucius was in front of him, "Of course you want to. Why would Harry get a letter so late? Perhaps it's for work. It might be an emergency."

"So I'll wake him then," Draco sneered.

Lucius frowned, "First off, don't speak to me like that. Secondly, what if it's nothing important, and then you just end up waking him from peaceful slumber?"

Draco hesitated in moving to Harry's side to gently wake him. Instead, he looked back down at the envelope.

"Go on then," he heard his father's voice, and, before he could think much more on it, Draco slid his finger underneath the seal on the back, and broke it. He lifted the flap, reached inside, and pulled out a piece of parchment that had been folded neatly in half.

He opened it up, his father staring over his shoulder, and his eyes scanned the words by the faint light coming in through the windows from the streetlamps outside. He read it through twice before his arm fell limply by his side, the letter held between two fingers.

Lucius clicked his tongue, "My, my. What a silly girl. Didn't I tell you to kill her?"

Draco didn't do or say anything. He just stared at Harry who was breathing in very slowly, and looked like an angel in the dim light cast upon his face and shoulders, the rest of his body covered by the sheet and blanket.

"Draco?" came his father's voice, "Shouldn't you go finish the job?"

Draco lifted the letter and read it again:

_Harry, after thorough reading, and much cross referencing – and this includes sending poor Ron back to the library for more books (it took him over an hour to return in what would have only been a five minute trip for you or I) – it worries me to inform you that you were right. There's a reason you couldn't find anything magical wrong with Draco, because there _is_ nothing wrong with Draco magically. All the answers were right here in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. (I think I should set in motion a new law that demands muggle doctoral texts are kept on hand.) _

_I've magically copied the entry and affixed it to this letter so that you can read for yourself. Oh Harry, I do still hope you have that Loveless Potion – you do not deserve the kind of pain this will cause you. Please, drink it soon, and then, even though it _wasn't_ his fault, turn Draco over to the correct authorities. Or, at the very least, take him to either St. Mungo's or St Bartholomew's Hospital. _

_I am sorry, Harry. Truly._

_Love, Hermione_

_Schizophrenia_

_A persistent, often chronic, and usually serious mental disorder affecting a variety of aspects of behavior, thinking, and emotion. Patients with delusions or hallucinations may be described as psychotic (Psychosis – Stress is known to contribute to and trigger psychotic states. A history of psychologically traumatic events on top of a recent stress can trigger the development of psychosis). Thinking may be disconnected and illogical. Peculiar behaviors may be associated with social withdrawal and disinterest._

_Diagnostic criteria for Schizophrenia _

_A. Characteristic symptoms: Two (or more) of the following, each present for a significant portion of time during a 1-month period (or less if successfully treated): _

_(1) Delusions_

_(2) Hallucinations_

_(3) Disorganized speech (e.g., frequent derailment or incoherence) _

_(4) Grossly disorganized or catatonic behavior_

_(5) Negative symptoms, i.e., affective flattening, alogia, or avolition _

_Harry, a citation caught my eye before I closed the book, and so I send this article as well. If nothing else, perhaps it is a way out. P.S. Don't tell Ron. I am ashamed to admit he was pleased by my aforementioned findings, and I do not think he would be too happy if he knew everything might turn out all right in the end._

_Schizophreniform Disorder_

_This mental disorder is diagnosed when the symptom criteria for Schizophrenia are met, but the duration is too short and social and occupational functioning may not be impaired._

_Diagnostic criteria for 295.40 Schizophreniform Disorder _

A._An episode of the disorder (including prodromal, active, and residual phases) lasts at least 1 month but less than 6 months. (When the diagnosis must be made without waiting for recovery, it should be qualified as "Provisional.")_

"It's a lie, Draco," came his father's voice again, and Draco turned to look at him.

"Is it? You're dead. You're supposed to be dead. You're not supposed to be standing here. _Why_ are you here? Why are you doing this to me?"

Draco's voice had risen so loud by this point that Harry not only stirred, but he sat bolt up straight, looking at Draco bewilderingly.

"Draco?" came Harry's worried voice, and it sounded very, very far away to Draco. He was feeling dizzy, and his father wasn't there anymore, and he was…he was…_insane_? "Draco?" came Harry's voice again, and Draco saw, through a white haze, Harry come flying out of the bed, his mouth open in a silent scream that Draco imagined wasn't wordless at all, but full of sound, but because he couldn't get his mind to focus became noiseless.

Draco started to walk back and forth, his hands balled into tight fists, and the letter crumpled within his grasp as he hissed, "The bitch is alive and telling lies."

He felt hands grasp onto his shoulders, and he looked up to see Harry staring at him, his mouth moving, but Draco didn't hear anything. Draco hissed, "_The bitch is alive and telling lies_." And he watched as Harry's brow creased and he shook Draco, his mouth still moving soundlessly.

And then sound slammed into Draco, making him feel so light-headed he closed his eyes as Harry's words finally infiltrated his mind, "Draco? Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on? Are you okay? Are you hurting? Please, Draco, tell me what's going on. Who's she? Who's telling lies? _Draco_! God _damn_ it, Draco! You're scaring the shit out of me."

And with the last sentence, Harry's voice cracked, and Draco opened his eyes to see tears streaking down Harry's face, and Draco made his heart turn a cold shoulder to the sympathy that tried to overtake him then. He thrust the crumpled letter at Harry, "This bitch. The mudblood. I thought I'd kill her."

Harry looked from Draco to the crumpled letter in Draco's hand, and then took it, opening it up. His eyes flew over the page so fast that Draco felt a little impressed. However, that feeling soon passed as Harry's face pulled deeper and deeper into a frown. He looked up at Draco, and then forced a smile, "But this is okay, Draco. This is okay. With some treatment you'll be fine."

Draco scoffed and pushed Harry away from him, "There's nothing fucking wrong with me, Harry."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "You killed seven people, Draco, and have no recollection of it! And then you tried to kill Hermione! You said you see your father as well." Harry shook the letter at Draco, "This explains everything!"

Draco shook his head, "No! You don't understand! I know there's nothing wrong with me!"

Harry rose a brow, "And how do you know that?"

Draco gave Harry such an evil look that Harry felt a shock of horror go rocketing down his spin, which only worsened as Draco answered, in a rather calm voice, "Because I don't give two shit's about some fucking squibs or a filthy fucking mudblood. They _all _ deserve to die."

Harry took a step back from Draco, "You don't mean that."

Draco cracked a grin, "Oh yes I do," and then he pushed past Harry.

Who immediately turned around, "Where are you going?"

Draco answered, "Where do you think? Upstairs to change," and he continued out of the room. Behind him, he heard the sounds of Harry running around his own room as Draco made his way up to his room. Once there, he pulled on a pair of black slacks, a white shirt, and a black suit jacket. Onto his feet he pulled on black dress socks. After sliding his feet into a pair of black shoes that were so shiny as to reflect his face, he looked in a mirror as he drug a comb through his hair, pushing the straight locks back until his hair was perfect. He gave himself a wink, and then turned to leave his room.

But Harry was standing in his doorway. Unlike Draco: dressed in his finest, looking his best, Harry had pulled on a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, and a red shirt, and his messy hair was messier than usual from earlier events and then sleeping.

Draco felt a mad rush of desire as he moved toward the man. When he was standing right in front of him he reached up, grabbed Harry's face, and pulled it towards his for a kiss that was very rough, and lacking any _true_ emotion. He felt Harry's hands pressing into his chest, trying to push Draco away, and when he succeeded, Harry hissed, a mixture of malice and pain in his eyes, "Fuck you, Draco.

Draco nodded, "You did earlier, Potter. Now why don't you go drink your fucking potion, and we can end this in a glorious lightshow?"

Harry paled, "Potion?"

Draco nodded, "The one you gave me earlier. I read the fucking letter, Potter," Draco grinned, "And you love me? How touching," but Draco didn't sound touched at all as he pushed his way past Harry, and made his way downstairs, passing Kreacher on the way, who quickly hurried into a corner to avoid Draco, fear shining up at him through tennis-ball sized eyes, and Draco smiled. Now _this_ was the way things were supposed to be.

He was in the entry hallway when he realized he didn't have his wand on him. He turned on spot and looked at Harry, who was quickly following after him. Draco gave another smile, a wicked one, and then called, "Accio wand," and waved his fingers, his palm facing upward. A moment later, the wand flew into his hand from the direction of the sitting room, and Draco curled his fingers around it before looking up at Harry who had a slightly surprised look on his face.

"Draco, what are you-"

But he cut off when Draco raised his wand and pointed it at Harry, "Drink your potion, Potter."

Harry's brows knitted together, "Why are you doing this?"

"DRINK YOUR POTION, _POTTER_!" Draco bellowed, and Harry gave him the sort of look he'd given him back in their school days before he lifted his own wand.

"Accio potion," he growled, and from the kitchen the bottle soared into Harry's waiting hand. But Harry didn't pop the cork. He looked at Draco, "Please, come back to me, Draco."

Draco sneered, "I haven't gone anywhere you damn half-wit. Drink your fucking potion."

"Why do you care if I drink it or not?" Harry asked.

Draco froze for a half a second, but recovered quickly, "I _don't_ care," he hissed, "Now drink it."

Harry took a step forward, "You still care about me, don't you? You're trying to protect me."

Draco shook his head, and brandished his wand more menacingly at Harry, "_Drink it_!"

"You won't attack me," Harry said self-assuredly.

Draco felt his blood boiling with rage, and there was a ringing in his head that interchanged with his father's voice telling him to kill Harry, to kill Granger, to kill Weasley – to kill everyone.

"He's going to kill you," his father whispered right next to him, and Draco's eyes flew away from Harry to Lucius, and then back again.

"No he won't. He _loves_ me," Draco mocked.

Lucius laughed, "Then you kill him."

"First the potion," replied Draco.

Harry was looking at Draco quizzically, one brow raised, "Who are you talking to, Draco?"

"My father, you idiot! He's standing right next to me or are you so stupid that you can't see him?" Draco exclaimed.

Harry's brows narrowed until they looked almost as one, "Draco…your father is dead, remember?"

Draco laughed, the throw-your-head-back kind of laugh, before he said, "No he isn't. He's right here. You really _are_ daft, Potter."

Harry look dead frightened now, and Draco thought to himself that it was about time before Harry whispered, "Please, Draco. I love you. Come back to me," and Draco realized Harry looked frightened for a completely different reason.

Somewhere in the center of his chest, he felt something pulling him toward Harry, felt a longing rising in him, and he suddenly wanted to reach out to Harry, to fall into his arms, to be saved by him, cared for by him, _loved_ by him.

"Damn it, Draco – _kill_ him!" he heard his father roar.

"Draco, come back to me," he heard Harry whisper, the man's voice torn by emotion.

"_Kill_ him, Draco!"

"Come back to me."

"_Kill_ him now!"

"Draco, please."

"_Kill_ him or be known forever as a coward in my eyes!"

"I _love_ you. And I don't want to stop."

Draco heard something like glass crunching and he looked over to see Harry squeezing the vial of black liquid so tightly that it had crushed under the pressure. The liquid was now seeping through Harry's fingers, and dripping to the floor.

And Harry, upon Draco looking up at him, was staring intently at him, all of that love he had for Draco shining in his eyes.

Something snapped within Draco. His blood boiled over, his rage exploded, and he turned his wand on his father, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

But no one was standing there. Only a mirror, that was quick to reflect the spell just thrown at it.

* * *

**A/N**: _Don't_ worry, there's more to come. 


	18. Heaven's Embrace

* * *

**A/N**: Okay, so this chapter took me the better part of a day to write. From 1:30 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. I have not spent longer time on a chapter before this one (all other chappies only took one and a half to two hours). I hope the six hours was well spent and you enjoy what is below.

* * *

_Chapter Sixteen: Heaven's Embrace_

In that one infinitesimal second after Draco had thrown the killing curse, Harry actually felt his heart rip right out of his chest, drop to the floor, and shatter into a million pieces. It was amazing, just how many thoughts could go through ones head in a situation like this. Harry's mind not only processed what was occurring before him, but a hundred different ways in which he was going to fail in saving his lover.

There was one idea he did not recall having at all, but it registered in his brain anyway, and Harry's wand arm seemed to lift of its own accord, pointed directly at Draco, "_Protego Horribilis, Maxima_!" A shimmering light, that reminded Harry of the Patronus Charm, exploded out of his wand tip so violently it knocked him backwards and up into the air where he, even as he flew, managed to keep his eyes on Draco and the spell.

The charm zipped through the space separating him and Draco so fast that Harry actually heard a thunderous boom as though the spell had broken the sound barrier, though there were no residual vibrations, so that can't have been possible. The light then halted in front of Draco, wrapped around him, and when the killing curse slammed into the shield, it reflected again, but this time, it was sent off course, and headed toward Harry who was completely immobile as he finally slammed down onto his back, the air completely knocked out of him. It also didn't help that as soon as the curse had hit the shield, a deep gash sliced diagonally along Harry's chest, making him gasp in pain as blood spilled from the wound to quickly soak into his red shirt. He slid backwards a foot, and felt the top of his head slam into the wall, making a resounding – _CRACK!_ – or was that something else? Regardless, Harry's world lost focus. And everything that came to him was distorted and fuzzy.

"_Harry_!"

And somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry registered that it was two voices that called his name. He didn't know how he mustered it, but he managed to roll out of the way of the spell just in time. It crashed into the floor right where he had just been, skidded halfway into the kitchen, leaving a burning black mark across the ground, before it finally extinguished under the table.

"You just tried to kill Harry!" roared a voice.

"I did not! I was attacking…That is, I was…" came Draco's hesitant, confused voice.

"Exactly! Don't try to lie! You _tried_ to kill Harry! I saw that spell going right for him! I won't forgive you for this, Malfoy. Insane or not, I'm going to bloody kill you, but not before I make you pay for what you did to Hermione," and Ron's voice radiated hatred, even as he cried, "_Crucio_!"

Harry heard a thump quickly followed by a sound that made his blood curdle, his heart break into another million pieces, and his stomach turn. Draco's screams of excruciating pain echoed throughout the house and inside of his head. Despite his light headedness Harry forced himself into a sitting position. He then tried to get his eyes to focus because Ron and Draco were just a blur. It took him a second to realize his glasses had slipped off, and he groped around blindly until he finally grasped them. He brought them up and shoved them onto his face.

And then everything came into sharp focus, and Harry found himself wishing it hadn't. Draco was writhing on the floor, bucking uncontrollably under the weight of the curse; his screams intermingled with grunts, gasps, and strangled coughs. Ron was standing over Draco, wielding his wand cruelly as he made a sharp twisting motion, and Draco's wand arm snapped up – the wand held in his hand was tossed into the air – and then down violently so that the knuckles on his hand scraped across the floor, tearing skin from bone. His arm was then shoved underneath his own back where, with another violent twist from Ron's wand, Draco's body arched up, and then came back down on it. There was an ear-splitting cracking noise that signified bone had just broken, and Draco's screams took on a completely new sound.

Harry, in the meantime, was struggling to get his own wand arm to raise, but his body seemed wiped of all energy. He couldn't get his body to respond to his commands. That roll to avoid the killing curse and then putting his glasses back on his face seemed to have been the last bit of power he had had in him. Harry's face was wet, and he knew tears were streaming from his eyes. He needed to get up. If he didn't, then Draco was going to die anyway.

_Please get up_. Harry's hand curled around his wand.

_Please get up._ Harry pushed against the floor with his other hand and he felt a warm gush of blood spill from the wound on his chest, but Harry continued to push himself up, until he was standing. He rested his back against the doorframe of the kitchen.

_Lift your arm._ He commanded, but his wand arm hung limply. _God damn it…lift your arm!_ Slowly, the arm began to rise.

Draco coughed, and Harry saw a shock of crimson shoot forth from between those smooth, beautiful lips to stain the floor before him. Blood was also coming from Draco's ears, his nose, and his voice was now hoarse and strained. His face was stained with tears and blood.

Harry's arms extended, and his wand aimed at Ron. From a place he hadn't known existed inside of him, he pulled a tremendous amount of energy, as he roared, "_Stop it, Ron_!"

Ron's wand actually lowered slightly, and Draco's body dropped against the floor as though lifeless as Ron's attention was drawn to Harry. He hadn't even seen Harry stand up, "Mate?"

Harry took in several ragged breaths. His free hand was pressing against his shirt, against the deepest part of the wound, somewhere in the vicinity of where his heart lie, and he said, his voice fainter this time, "Stop it. He didn't…try to kill me. He fought it…fought it off." Harry's head was swimming, and Ron was going in and out of focus, but he took a step in Ron and Draco's direction, his shoulders hunched forward against the pain in his chest. He pulled in a shallow breath and demanded, "Get away from him, Ron."

Ron scowled, "He deserves everything I choose to dish out on him. For all of the pain he's caused. Even if I ignore our past, and his crimes against the squibs because of his mental state, I can't ignore what he did to Hermione, and I certainly can't ignore the fact that I walked in on an Avada Kedavra beaming straight for you as you flew, helplessly, through the air."

Harry continued forward, "Threw it at his father," Harry whispered. He was unaware, but he had become deathly pale.

Ron wasn't so unaware. As his friend stepped into the light shining form the sitting room, Ron's eyes widened, "Jesus, Harry – you're bleeding like mad! Did he Sectumsempra you as well?"

Harry shook his head and leaned against the frame of the entry to the sitting room. His lead lolled to rest against the frame as well.

"I need to get you to Mungo's, Harry," and Ron stepped over Draco and moved toward his best friend.

Harry held up a hand, stopping Ron in his tracks, "Draco…"

"What about him?" And Harry heard the loathing in Ron's voice.

"Is he…alive?" Harry breathed out.

"Mate, I don't give a shit about Draco. I only care about you. And soon, you won't care about Draco either. Because you'll drink that potion Luna made for you," and now Ron was standing right in front of Harry. He turned and then reached up and gingerly drew Harry's wand arm around his shoulders. He then wrapped his other arm around Harry's waist, "Come on, Harry. Focus on Mungo's."

"Ron, I broke the potion," Harry replied, and then, "Let me go. I have to make sure Draco is all right."

When Harry tried to step away from Ron, Ron's hold on him tightened, "Harry, you're going to bleed to death. I'll have Luna bring you more Loveless Potion once we get to the hospital, but we have to go."

"Draco…" Harry called, completely ignoring Ron, and still trying to pull away. Draco didn't move in the slightest bit to Harry's call, and fear seized Harry, "Draco?" He called again, this time his voice a little louder than before. But Draco still did not move. Harry turned and pushed against Ron, "Let me go."

Ron's hold did not loosen, and it worried him how weak Harry's push had been, and how pale Harry's face was, "Harry," he said, his voice full of reason, "Please. We need to get you to Mungo's or you're going to die."

Harry's eyes hardened, and he growled, "I don't _care_, Ron. Let me go, now."

Ron dropped his arm from around Harry's waist, and he pulled his other hand away from Harry's wrist that was keeping Harry beside him as Harry's arm had been draped over his shoulder. But he didn't stray far from Harry's side. He followed after him as Harry shuffled toward Draco, and then even gave Harry a helping hand as Harry lowered himself to his knees next to Draco's still form.

"Draco?" Harry whispered, but still Draco did not move.

Ron didn't know where Harry got the strength, but he watched as Harry rolled Draco onto his back, and then pulled his head into his lap.

Harry wiped the blood away from Draco's lips with his thumb, and as he grazed across them it did not go unnoticed that no breath wafted over Harry's finger. Harry choked back a sob as he leaned over Draco until his shaking lips pressed against Draco's that were still slightly warm. As he pulled away, his body gave a tremendous shudder, and the sob he had choked back erupted from him, filling the entryway with pitiful, heartbreaking sounds.

Behind Harry, Ron stood, a mixture of pain and regret on his face. He had been an idiot. A complete idiot. He recognized this scene. He had felt this way himself when Harry had handed him Hermione, and Ron had thought she had died. He recognized Harry's sob, because Ron had given one of his own when the mediwizards and healers had given him sad looks that made him think she wouldn't make it before they took her from him. And a guilt that could not be explained and should never be felt by anyone settled inside Ron's soul making him feel unclean and forever tarnished.

"Harry…" Ron whispered, his voice cracking under the strain of the guilt, and the unbidden tears that welled in his eyes, "I'm so sorry."

Harry just shook his head, but he didn't say anything.

Ron doubted it would have made much sense anyway as Harry was now sobbing in a way that Ron had rarely seen on anyone. His mum and dad, and George had cried like this when Fred had died. The whole family had cried, even Harry and Hermione, but Ron had imagined it hurt his mum and dad, and, of course, George, on a whole different scale than what he and the others had felt. But there was something slightly different about this weeping, and that was that Harry really had been in love with Draco, he had found the person he'd wanted to spend the rest of his life with, his soul mate – the way Hermione was his – and Ron had just taken that away from his best mate. How would he ever forgive himself? How would Harry ever forgive him?

Harry had pulled Draco up into his arms and he was now crying into Draco's neck as his hands curled into the fabric of the back of Draco's suit jacket. Harry felt like he was going to die. He had never known a pain like this before. It felt scorching hot and soul trembling cold, and like nothing would ever be alright in his life ever again. As though all of the world had died and there was nothing left for him to live on for.

Harry wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind, whether or not there was a Dementor standing just behind him. And then it occurred to him that a Dementor's sole purpose was to make one go insane, to take away all happy thoughts, all happy feelings, all the good things one felt, to strip one of everything; Ron had just done that to him. In a way, there _was_ a Dementor standing behind him.

Harry clutched at Draco tighter, "I can't l-lose you, Dr-Draco. You ca-can't be d-d-dead."

Ron reached out and touched Harry's shoulder, and Harry immediately pulled away, as he snarled, "Don't touch me," his voice cracked, and he whimpered, "Please…just don't touch me."

Ron pulled his hand away, but he still said, "Harry…we have to get you-"

"Bloody hell, Ron! I don't give a fuck about going to St. Mungo's! Just leave me alone!" Harry shrieked, glaring over his shoulder at Ron.

Ron took a step backwards. The blood loss would make Harry pass out before it would kill him, and so Ron figured he'd just bide his time. But as soon as Harry lost consciousness, it was straight to St. Mungo's for him.

Harry, after assured that Ron wasn't going to bother him anymore, turned his attention back to Draco. He looked down into the relaxed features that belied his current condition. _He isn't sleeping_, thought Harry, _he's left me._

Harry was cold, shivering to the bone, lips blue, teeth chattering cold, and he felt tired – _so_ very tired. He wanted to lay his head down and drift off to sleep…drift off to where Draco was. He bent over until his head was resting against Draco's chest, and he inhaled deeply. One last time, Draco's scent filled his nose, and Harry closed his eyes to relish in it. It wouldn't be long now he could feel It. It was coming for him, just as It had come for Draco. Death.

-----------

The sound trickled into Harry's mind from far away. To this rhythm, he pulled in breath, and soon, his heartbeat was matching up with it as well. Warmth started to swirl around him as though he had been pulled into a loving embrace, and the touch of a gentle hand on his cheek brought back some small form of happiness that he'd thought he'd never feel again. Because, he recognized that tender touch. It was Draco's. So was this it? Was this what it was like to be in Heaven? To forever be surrounded by the smell, the heat, and the touch of Draco?

An eternity in this place would not be a disappointment. It really was heaven.

* * *


	19. Life Force

**A/N: **Dear Reader's,

Thank you so much for reading my story. The reviews, the story-alerts, the favorites have all made me sublimely happy. I'll admit that this is the first story I've ever let anyone read of mine (minus my fiance reading my work). This is also my first finished story in twelve years. Before this, I was riddled by a severe case of writer's block and would only write a few pages before giving up or even as little as a sentence before saying screw it. I guess, I had no inspiration. J.K. provided that, and so, I must thank her as well. Thank you, J.K., for creating, quite possibly, the most amazing characters that have ever existed, and inspiring me to write. Also, the same goes to you, Dear Reviewers, Story Alerters, and Favoriters. Without you, I would never have finished. Again, thank you. Thank you so much.

All my Love, Appreciation, and Undying Gratitude,

DanuMarie

* * *

_Chapter Seventeen: Life Force_

"Harry?"

Why could he hear Ron? Had Ron died too? But that seemed silly. Ron had been fine just before Harry had slipped away into Heaven's embrace.

"_Harry_! Open your eyes!" He heard Ron yell.

Feeling betrayed by being pulled from Heaven, Harry did as Ron commanded. And what he saw around him was that glowing light that had exploded out of his wand swirling around him and Draco, lighting up the entry hall so brightly that Ron had his arm lifted to shield his eyes.

And then Harry realized: Draco really _was_ touching his cheek, his skin illuminated with the magic of Harry's protective spell , and when Harry lifted his head and looked up, he saw Draco staring at him, his silver eyes shining warmly at Harry. Harry felt his heart leap into his throat. How was this possible? How was Draco alive?

"Draco?" he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost as though no sound at all had issued forth from his lips.

Draco smiled and moved his hand down to Harry's chin where he then gently tugged at him until Harry's lips were hovering over Draco's. He whispered, "You didn't _really_ think I'd leave you that easily, did you, Harry?"

Tears spilled from Harry's green eyes, and he gave a small sob even as Draco raised his head slightly to close the distance still separating them, and pressed his lips – warm and soft, and gloriously wonderful lips – against Harry's. And Harry delighted in the feel of those lips and the emotion behind the kiss until he finally slipped down into the recesses of oblivion.

-----------

"I've never seen anything like it, 'Mione. I was just getting ready to step in and bring Harry here, because the fool wouldn't let me before he passed out, when Draco suddenly lit up so brightly that I thought someone was shining the sun down on him. I actually had to cover my eyes."

In the silence, voices began to intrude, and Harry slowly made his way to the surface of awareness as the voices continued to swirl about him.

"And you say he was dead, Ron?" came Hermione's inquisitive voice.

"I…" Ron hesitated, "I hadn't meant to kill him. I…"

"But you did?" Hermione asked him.

There was a couple seconds of silence, and then, "Yeah…I did."

"And you're sure?"

"'Mione…a person doesn't cry…I mean, yeah – I'm sure."

Harry smiled. He didn't know why. He supposed he found it amusing that Ron was trying to save his, Harry's, dignity.

But then Hermione said, "A person doesn't cry – what?"

Ron's voice lowered to a whisper, "A person doesn't cry the way Harry did unless they've lost what they love most in the world."

"Oh? And how do you know that?" and there was a touch of doubt and ridicule in Hermione's voice.

To which Ron strongly answered, "Because that was the way I cried when I thought Mal-…er…_Draco_ had killed you."

Hermione didn't say anything at first. And then her choked reply finally came along with a rustle of movement, "Oh, Ronald. I love you so much."

Harry imagined that Hermione had just thrown herself in Ron's arms, and when Harry finally forced his eyes open, that was exactly what he saw. Hermione and Ron clinging to each other tightly at the end of his bed.

Ron pulled away first, and Harry quickly shut his eyes. He wasn't ready to talk yet. He just wanted to listen.

"I don't think Harry will ever forgive me, 'Mione," came Ron's sad voice.

"Harry loves you like a brother, Ron. He'll forgive you," Hermione assured him, her voice warm and soft, and not in the slightest bit doubtful.

"I _killed_ the man he's in love with," Ron insisted.

And Harry couldn't help the quick inhalation. Had it been a dream then? _Was_ Draco still dead? But…no…it couldn't be.

"And Harry's love saved him. Harry _will_ forgive you," Hermione insisted.

Harry felt the tension loosen in his body.

"'Mione, do you think…do you think he would have…" but Ron didn't finish.

Hermione did, and she supplied an answer as well, "Do I think he would have forgiven you if Draco was still dead? I don't think it would have mattered, Ron. I think he would have died."

The room filled with silence, but still Harry didn't open his eyes. Not yet.

He heard the shuffling of feet, and then the feel of a soft hand on his forehead as his hair was pushed back. "Harry," whispered Hermione, "you can stop pretending to be asleep now."

Harry opened one eye and looked up at Hermione, gazing down at him, and then he opened his other eye before looking to the end of the bed where Ron was wearing a bewildered expression. Ron smiled, more a look of relief than anything, "Harry! Thank God." He then came to Harry's other side, "I was worried sick, Mate."

Harry looked between the two of them, and gave a very small smile, "How long…?"

"Only a few hours, Harry," Hermione answered his unfinished question.

Harry's smile grew. He loved how Hermione always knew what Ron or he was about to say. He found himself wishing that, one day, she would be able to do the same for Draco.

Draco?

"Hermione, where's Draco?"

Hermione smiled reassuringly, and then stepped out of Harry's way. Harry turned his head and saw Draco lying in the bed next to his, curled up slightly, snoring softly, and Harry felt as though this was the best day of his life. His heart swelled, and his vision misted over as he whispered, "I thought I'd lost him."

"I'm sorry, Harry," he heard Ron whisper, and Harry turned his eyes back to Ron. He then reached out and settled one of his hands over one of Ron's. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, and Ron smiled, his eyes growing wet.

When Harry turned to look at Hermione, he found her sniffling as tears slid down her cheeks. She chuckled faintly, "What?" she asked in response to the raised brow that Harry gave her, "I can't help myself. I'm just so glad things have worked out."

Harry laughed, and then looked back to Draco. The conversation he had awoken to flowed back into his mind, and he asked, "Hermione, why did you ask Ron several times if Draco had really been dead or not?"

He felt his bed sag on both sides as both Ron and Hermione sat next to him, "Well," came Hermione's voice, "it just seemed familiar, is all."

"Familiar?"

"To Voldemort's horcruxes," Hermione supplied.

Harry's head whipped in her direction, and both he and Ron said, "What?" in the same taken aback voice at the same time.

"Well, to answer that, I'll need you to tell me exactly what happened," Hermione said.

Harry nodded and immediately recounted the events from waking up to find Draco in the middle of a psychotic attack all the way to when Ron showed up, the details after which she was all ready familiar. Hermione then mulled for a bit before she nodded.

"Yes, Harry. I really _ do_ think it resembles Voldemort's horcruxes in the way Draco was saved," Hermione finally said.

"I don't understand," Harry replied, "How is that even possible?"

"Yeah," chimed in Ron, "Don't you have to do really nasty rituals and acts to create a horcrux?"

"Well," Hermione continued, "New spells are created everyday. Maybe, Harry, that's just what you did."

"That's _exactly_ what he did."

Hermione, Ron, and Harry all looked over to the neighboring bed where Draco had awoken without anyone noticing. He slowly sat up, and then turned so his legs dangled over the bedside and his feet touched the floor. Reaching up, he dragged a hand through his white-blond hair before he pushed himself up off the bed. Hermione instantaneously stood up as well and walked over to the other side of the bed to sink down beside Ron. Draco crossed the small space between his and Harry's bed, and sat where Hermione had been before.

Harry and Draco just gazed at each other, and then Ron whispered to Hermione, though Harry and Draco heard him clear as day, "He's not trying to kill you…"

Draco looked up at Ron. Conflicting emotions crossed his face before he said, "I don't want to kill her," and Harry was happy to hear only the slightest tinge of dislike in Draco's voice. But he was even happier to hear that Draco was in full control of himself.

"You feel…alright then?" asked Harry.

Draco looked back down to Harry, and his eyes lit up, and a smile curled upon his face as he reached down and picked up Harry's hand, drawing it into his lap where he held onto to it tightly as he nodded, "Other than feeling a little sore from…er…punishment-"

Ron paled and looked away from Draco.

"-I feel fine, Harry. Especially now that you're all right."

Harry lifted his free hand to scratch at his chest, and when his fingers scraped against bumpy material he looked down to see that he wasn't even wearing a shirt. His entire chest was wrapped in gauze, and there was the faintest streak of red going diagonally from Harry's left shoulder to his right hip. He lifted a brow, "Er-?"

Hermione said, "It's because of the spell you cast to protect Draco, Harry."

Harry's brow lifted higher.

Hermione was more than glad to oblige with a further explanation, "I believe that the spell you created that saved Draco's life wasn't just a simple shield, Harry. Indeed, I don't even think the words you bellowed had any real effect. I think it was the emotion and the want behind the words, behind the need for the spell that brought it to life," she paused as though considering something. And then, with a slight nod, as though confirming her own inner thoughts before she spoke, she continued, "I think you literally tore a piece of your soul out of yourself and used it to shield Draco. Because the killing curse is so destructive, when it slammed into your soul, it actually ended up physically wounding you even though it never actually touched you because your soul and that part of your soul were still connected.

Harry nodded, "And Draco lived because-"

"Because your soul moved inside of me after saving my life, and when my own life force was extinguished, yours was quick to relight the flame," Draco explained.

"Not quick enough. I was sure I had lost you," Harry whispered.

Draco bent and kissed Harry's forehead before repeating his earlier words, "You didn't think I'd leave you that easily, did you, Harry?" Draco leaned away from Harry and gazed down into his eyes. A gaze of adoration that was steadfastly returned by Harry.

"When Voldemort made his horcruxes, it was so he could achieve immortality. I'm not going to live forever, am I?" Harry asked eventually, turning to look at Hermione.

Hermione shook her head, "No. I don't think so. I think the most reasonable theory is that your soul, your life force, was the fire behind Draco's life being returned. Now that he's alive again, he's sustaining his own life, and that part of your soul is burnt out."

Harry nodded, feeling much better now that he knew he wouldn't live forever. Even with Draco by his side, he still didn't wish to live until the end of time. He only wished to live his own life. Harry was never and had never been afraid of his own mortality. He looked back to Draco, who smiled at him.

When no one spoke for a long while, he finally felt the side of his bed on which Ron and Hermione were both seated move back to its normal shape as they both stood up. Harry looked over at them.

"Well, I guess we'll just be leaving the two of you alone then," Ron said. Harry noticed that Ron's cheeks were red and that Ron seemed to be _deeply_ interested in the corner of Harry's blanket as he was both intently staring and picking at it.

Hermione noticed this and reached out, picking up his hand, and taking it within her own. Harry saw her squeeze it before she said, "We'll see you later then, Harry," her eyes flicked to Draco, "and you too, I imagine."

Draco opened his mouth, but Hermione interrupted him, "Don't apologize. I know you didn't mean to. I realize you had no control. It's for this reason that we're also going to close and cold case the squib murders."

Harry looked up, "Hermione, Ron-"

But Ron looked at Harry, "It's all ready been decided, mate. Besides," and his cheeks turned redder, "it's the least I can do since I…"

"Killed me?" Draco asked in a voice that was completely innocent.

Ron gave an uneasy cough, "Erm…yeah." He reached up and scratched the back of his neck.

"I deserved it," Draco said in an off-hand manner. And then he frowned and said, rather seriously, "I'm not sure you guys should close that case. I might have been clinically insane when I committed those deeds, but don't you think-"

"Yes," said Hermione, "I do. But I love Harry, and nothing will change what's been done. But, Draco…"

Draco looked up at Hermione.

She continued, "…if you _ever_ hurt anyone again…"

Draco nodded, and there was no reason for Hermione to continue.

She tugged on Ron's hand, "Come on."

Ron gave Harry a small wave and then left the hospital room with Hermione.

Draco and Harry then resumed their silence. Eventually, Harry scooted over in the bed, and Draco stretched out beside him. Draco then gingerly held Harry in his arms, careful to not jar him too horribly and cause pain in the wound that had been non-healable by magical means. Draco believed that though it would eventually heal, Harry would carry a scar for the rest of his life. However, Draco didn't think Harry would mind the scar marring his chest so much as he had the one on his forehead.

Draco ran his fingers through Harry's hair, "I love you, Harry."

Harry moved his head so that he was peering into Draco's loving gaze, and he smiled. Tenderness swelled inside of him, and he replied, with only the _utmost_ sincerity, "I love you too, Draco."

Together, they watched as the sun rose outside St. Mungo's, and then, together, they fell asleep. When they would wake up they would find their lives intricately weaved together. Because that is as it should be…when you truly love someone.

-Fin-

* * *


End file.
